


The Calm is an Illusion

by Meadow_Wanderer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Demonic entity, Elements, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Flirting, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Lies, M/M, Magic Stiles, Multi, Post Kanima, Some Humor, Strained friendships/relationships, Threesome - M/M/M, bruises and beatings, keeping secrets, polygamous realtionship, possessive, when nightmares become reality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-05 11:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1817692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meadow_Wanderer/pseuds/Meadow_Wanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He thought he could breathe easy, believed that these past months of normality were a sign that things were finally settling down, maybe even getting better.</p><p>That was before he was bleeding from a slash across his stomach and buried under three feet of dirt. Man, was he so fucking wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. aqua/ὕδωρ

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [between the click of the light and the start of the dream](https://archiveofourown.org/works/787753) by [thepsychicclam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/pseuds/thepsychicclam). 



> Hi! So this is my second teen wolf story I'm starting on while working on the first, and i knows its a lot but i just knew this idea had to be written down and posted. Finished this first chapter quickly and hopefully more will follow in the same way!
> 
> This story when read could seem similar to thepsychiclam's "between the click of the light and the start of the dream" but it's different, you'll see! But I did want to put this source in here because the nightmares/waking up in a different place was inspired a little by it. Just to let you all know! But other than that, new story, new plot and different pairing with Derek/Stiles/Jackson!
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy! <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ὕδωρ/hydor~water

He sits on the porch swing his dad put up last month, gazing out into the demurred neighborhood in the warm August night. The heel of his shoe pushes on the ground, causing him to swing forward and back leisurely, his eyes looking up into the night sky as if he could begin to count the infinite stars. It’s pretty quiet, only the chirps of crickets along with the occasional car driving by break the silence.

He breathes in slowly, taking this moment to feel relief that all seems right in the world. He just started his junior year and the most he's concerned with is wondering if he should buzz his head again as he runs his fingers through his longer strands. The pack is doing really well, no threats appearing for the past 3 months after dealing with the Kanima situation. It feels good to not have to worry, that mostly everyone made it out unscathed and stronger.

So in these few and far between moments, he likes to just breathe in the peace.

His dad took off a few minutes ago, headed down to the station to fill out some last reports. That’s another thing that’s been going good, his relationship with his dad. Time may not heal all wounds, but the truth can. He told him everything, with Derek and Scott’s help, and luckily his dad after a few days seemed to accept it. His dad’s overprotective streak has increased, but there’s no more tension between them anymore. It feels like a load isn’t crushing his ribs anymore when he talks to his dad these days. It’s nice to be able to not have to lie to him.

Stiles breathes in the night air once more, letting his eyes close drowsily in almost a drunkenness of the warm wind before opening them again and standing up. He decides to turn in early, feeling like his bed is just calling his name. And who is he to deny his wonderful bed, especially when he has to head back to school tomorrow after this lazy weekend. He heads inside the house and up to his room, toeing out of his shoes and stripping down to his boxers and a worn t-shirt.

He climbs in bed and is almost ready to shut down his brain for the night, before his phone laying forgotten on the nightstand catches his eye. He picks it up and sees he has to texts from Scott about an hour ago.

_Hey do you know if we’re gonna have that math test on Friday or did Mr. Dumune move it to Tuesday? Cause if so, I’m so screwed. Help me study!_

_Dude1! Do you know?!! C’mon man!_

He huffs out a laugh at how mundane their problems seem these days compared to the past year. He types out a quick reply,

_Sorry! Left my phone in my room while I was helping my dad. And don’t worry bro, the test is on Friday and ill help ya study!_

_Plus we all know it’s a ploy. ;) just can’t resist me can ya buddy?_

He smiles, knowing full well Scott will feel relief before getting flustered and annoyed at his replies. He shuts his phone and puts on the nightstand, turning his lamp off and snuggling back in his bed. The moonlight shines through his window, dimly lighting the dark bedroom and casting shadows over the wall. He lays on his back with one arm lay bent above his head, eyes blinking slowly, sluggishly fighting off sleep until he’ll fall into his dreams.

He’s just about ready to close his eyes for the final time when he feels tingles covering his throat, almost to the point of tickling before something that feels like a hand grabs him by the throat tightly and pulls his down into the darkness.

He’s choking, struggling against the force wrapped around his neck, but can’t see anything. Only pitch black nothingness in front of him before suddenly water surrounds him, making the feeling of suffocation grow stronger with each second. He thinks he’s in the ocean, the dark waters whipping him back and forth till he’s so disoriented he can’t tell which way is up. The hands is still tight around his throat, holding onto him so tightly it feels like his larynx is being crushed as wave after wave crashes down around him, making air impossible to get to.

He’s drowning and wishing to take one more breath, before the grip around his throat disappears. A sharp pain shoots up his spine before he forces his eyes open and sees that the water is clearer and chlorine is making his eyes sting. He immediately swims towards the top, bursting through the surface of the water and sputters with relief. He grabs onto the rocky ledge and pulls himself half way out, choking and coughing up water as oxygen tries to get back into his lungs.

Once he can finally breathe somewhat normally, he looks around to see that he’s in the school pool, not a soul in sight. If he weren’t still trying to concentrate on breathing properly, he would probably be consumed in a panic attack.

How the _heck_ did end up here?!

He pulls himself fully out of the water to sit on the ledge, rubbing the water out of his eyes and face. He looks down to see he is wearing the same boxers and worn t-shirt he wore to bed, now both soaking wet.

“This is a dream. This all a dream.” He nods and swallows. “Time to wake up Stiles. C’mon.” He slaps his face and stops as it starts to sting. He even tries the trick of pinching himself, but he thinks that the only thing that gave him was a bruise.

This is real. Holy shit, this is real. He’s sitting beside the school pool at night and he has no freaking clue how he got here. Plus he’s wet and starting to shiver a bit.

He stands up and starts to head out of here, wandering through the guy’s locker room and luckily finding fresh towels they keep for athletes to wrap around shoulders. He checks his own locker and a little hope for more comfort slips away when he realizes he took his extra pair of clothes home on Friday. Guess a towel will have to do.

He walks towards the door leading into the school but finds it locked, making his nerves and agitation grow. He heads towards the one going outside and luckily it opens as he slips outside and into the parking lot near the field. The only lights on are a few of the floodlights on the empty field. He looks towards the parking lot and sees no car at all, making him curse a loud “shit” and pat around his clothing. No car, no cellphone, and no one around to help him.

He sighs heavily before grudgingly starting to walk over to the street and begin the long trek home. It gives plenty of him time to think about what the fuck is going on, mentally begging a list in his head of what he knows at this very moment.

       List of things I, Stiles Stilinksi, know at this very moment: 

  1.     I went to bed around 11 pm, safe and sound in my warm, oh so very warm and comfy bed. 


  1.      I was about to fall asleep when I felt like I was strangled and then maybe passed out and woke up in the school’s pool, which was just lovely. *sarcasm fully intended* 


  1.      I have no idea how I got into the school’s pool nor even into the school since I obviously didn’t drive here and have to walk the shit journey back home barefoot on this gravel road.



     4.  I don’t have my phone which freaking sucks. 

  1.   I’ve never sleepwalked before so I guess my body decided now was a good time to start? Whoop de doo! 


  1.      I’m gonna write a strongly worded letter to the school, because if somehow I can break in that easily then their security system obviously sucks [but anonymously cause I definitely don’t need breaking and entering on my transcript.] 


  1.      Man, I’m so tired. I just want to fall asleep right on the side of the road which note to self, would be a horrible idea. 


  1.      I’m for sure either gonna catch hypothermia or some flesh eating foot disease before I get home. Both seem plausible at the moment.



 He runs out of things to think about and instead breaths through the pain when he occasionally steps on a rock or something sharp. Man, this sucks!

After what seems like an hour, but he’s gonna guess its closer to about 40 minutes, he finally gets home. His dad’s cruiser is in the driveway, making him immediately think he’s in deep shit. But luckily all the lights in the house are turned off, no sign of distress showing in the Stilinski house. 

He walks up onto the porch soundlessly and tries the front door handle, only to find it locked. He backs a few steps to see if his window is open, only to find it closed. How the heck did he supposedly sleep walk out of the locked up house? He shivers again and decides to just forget worrying for the moment and picks up a potted plant near the swing, taking the key from hidden underneath there.

He unlocks the door, moving inside as quietly as possible, then locks the front door behind him. He heads up the stairs, taking each step gently as to not making a creaking sound and wake his dad.

He gets to the second floor and sees his dad’s door is closed, his muffled snoring heard from behind it. He turns and heads to his room, seeing his own door closed for some reason. He’s pretty sure he left it open, but maybe he closed it some time during the night? His dad usually checks on him, especially after the whole idea of bringing introduced into the supernatural and the danger his son has been putting himself in. He can only guess the reports took him long into the night and he came home to see his son’s door closed, guessing him to be sleeping soundlessly behind it.

He breaths an inaudible sigh of relief that his dad didn’t check, because last thing Stiles wants to do is scare the crap out of his dad again by going missing or something. Supernatural stuff may be on the down low, but work down at the police station still works his dad hard. He deserves a goodnight sleep when he comes home.

He forgoes his room and heads into the bathroom to take a warm shower, ready to get rid of the goose bumps on his skin and wash the dirt off his feet. He shuts the door quietly and turns on the shower to hot, letting the steam start to warm him up. As the water heats up, he can only decide mentally that if this is a sleepwalking problem or the beginning of night terrors, it needs to be put an end to and fast. If he can end up almost drowning in the school pool, there’s no telling where he might be next.

He’s throws the towel to the side and is about to strip down when he notices his reflection in the mirror. He’s damp hair sticks to his forehead as does the clothes to his body, but that’s not what stops him. It’s something else that makes him feel shaken, sending a prickle of fear up his spine.

Because in his reflection, wrapped around his neck, are bruises in the shape of fingers.


	2. Ego mos scratch meus nails in profundus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ego mos scratch meus nails in profundus*~ I will scratch my nails in deep
> 
> (*forgive me if that was a bad translation)
> 
> Hope you enjoy! <3

“Two minutes Stiles and your butt better be down here!” He hears his dad yell accompanied by heavy footsteps going down the stairs.

He takes one last look in the mirror, making sure the collar of his hoodie is pulled up and as close to his neck as possible. He doesn’t want to start worrying anyone about some small bruises that he might have done to myself. And secretly, he just wants to play the ignorance card and not think anything else could’ve done this.

He grabs his backpack and runs down the stairs, grabbing his keys to the jeep off the table and an apple his dad is holding out for him. His dad smiles at him as he run out the front door.

“Thanks dad!”

“Don’t be late!”

“I would never!”

“And obey the speed limits!”

“Will try!”

He can hear a chuckle echo from the kitchen as the front door shuts behind him. He takes the porch steps two at a time then go over to the jeep, opening the driver door and hopping inside. Reviving the engine, he backs out of the driveway and makes his way to school.

Unlike last night, when he arrives the parking lot is full of cars and kids hanging around in their groups of friends. He pulls into a spot in the back and hops out, spotting Scott just pulling up to the front of the lot on his new motorbike, revving the engine as Stiles head towards him. The sound attracts a few admiring glances from people milling about near the entrance.  _Show off_.

As Scott takes off his helmet, Stiles walks up behind him, clapping a hand on his back as his best friend’s head whips around to see him and smiles. Scott pushes his arm, lacking any real heat.

“Dude you didn’t text me back!”

He remembers last night texting him about the test and then waking up in the pool. When he got home and after he took a shower, he went back to my room and saw that his best friend had texted back twice, a few minutes later.

_Thanks! And EWWW stop being creepy!!!!!_

_Oh! forgot to tell ya there’s a pack meeting tomorrow. Wanna ride together?_

He just shakes his head as they start heading towards the entrance of the school. “Sorry, feel a sleep,” which is not a complete lie since he did kinda, sort of, maybe slept last night.  “But yeah, the answer to the question is sure. Although I’ll pick ya up, cause I love ya man, but riding your motorcycle together is where I draw the line.”

Scott smiles and rolls his eyes, bumping his shoulder with his own. As they walk, he glances around to see people in shorts and tank tops, clearly enjoying what’s left of the summer weather. He knows he kinda sticks out like a sore thumb in jeans and a hoodie, but there’s a slightly nice breeze today so he won’t sweat horribly at least.

They walk into school, loud talking immediately hitting his ears as they head to their lockers. Scott spots Allison and Isaac and walks over to them to chat as he heads to his locker, opening it and grabbing the books he needs, shedding his backpack and putting it into my locker when he’s finished. The click of heels move closer to him as he notices a body with long blonde hair in the corner of my eye, leaning against the locker next to his.

“Geez Stilinksi, you’re gonna give us all a run for their money with that outfit.”

He rolls his eyes, shutting the locker door and turning to see Erica smirking at him. She’s in shorts and wearing a plunging purple V-neck, clearly enjoying the weaher.

“Comfort over style, Catwoman. Plus I like this hoodie.” He tugs the collar of the thick, gray hoodie closer to him, making sure his neck is out of sight.

“You won’t be saying that when you end up on What Not to Wear, Batman.” She winks and turns to saunter over to Boyd, guys on both sides of the hallway following the movement of her hips swaying from side to side. She slips her arm through Boyd’s as they head to class together.

He shakes his head at her obvious seduction and heads to class, saying a quick hi to the teacher before taking a seat towards the middle.  As other students begin to pile into the room, he almost thinks about how none of the pack share this class with him, until a familiar face pops into the room.

“Mr. Whittemore, it’s good to see you back. You’re mother called the office, so don’t worry about missing the first week of school.” Mrs. Wayne greets the blonde jock.

Jackson nods gratefully. “Thanks.”

Stiles totally forgot that Jackson was coming back to school, after the Kanima incident and his parents taking him to London for the summer. Lydia was heartbroken when Jackson left, especially since it was her love that seemed to have brought him back, but they are still good friends. If he had to guess, the jock probably just missed the feel of the pack too much while away and decided to come back here.

Jackson looks around the room till he spots him, a small quirk of the lips in acknowledgement as he heads over to sit in the empty seat beside Stiles’ own.

“Stilinski” he says in greeting, sliding into his seat smoothly..

“Whittemore,” earning a smirk  in response. Stiles knows they haven’t gotten along in the past, but after all is said and done, it is kind of nice to see the blonde again, though he would never admit that aloud. Hopefully London has brought out a more humble side of Jackson.

 “Missed me? I mean it must have been torture to not see me all summer.” And nope, there it is. Guess even cheery old London apparently couldn’t fix that cockiness attitude.

“Oh yeah, I missed ya like a rash Jackson” he shots back sarcastically.

 Jackson just rolls his eyes in response, but looks sideways at him with something that almost looks, he dare say... _fond_?

He immediately shakes his head, because obviously his lack of sleep is definitely messing with him today. He turns his head and listens as the teacher begins explaining a new concept to the class.

 ---

Lunch was like a royal dining with the Queen herself, the pack asking questioning Jackson all about cultural aspects of London, the history of it, and other incite differences. 

Stiles just asked if he drank tea and ate biscuits a lot, and did he go to "the loo" often. 

Erica jabbed him in the ribs and Jackson along with most everyone just rolled their eyes at him. But Scott snickered with him, so obviously his questions were an awesome.

After lunch, he heads into history class with Lydia, taking a seat behind her as he opens his notebook to a clean page. He’s already heard this class is going to be super fun…NOT! The teacher, Mr. Jonah starts rambling about what he expects from the class and the rigorous course load he has planned, which Stiles immediately tunes out of 5 seconds into the speech.

 He’s doodling a super mega-robot when he hears a scratching sound.

 He looks up and sees Mr. Jonah still talking and everyone else more or less paying attention to him. The scratching sound happens again, more pronounced than before which makes Stiles look at the walls, but spots nothing. No one else seems to hear it, even Lydia who sits up rights and paying focused attention to the teacher.

 The noise suddenly gets louder as it sounds like nails scratching on the chalkboard, lines appearing on the board as he flinches at the noise. He can’t hear the teacher anymore, just the noise getting louder and louder, the sound making his body cringe and his ear drum feel like its about to burst or-

“Stiles.”

He jolts and looks at Lydia who in turned around towards him and looking at him questioningly.

“Guess you were too busy day dreaming, but he’s assigned us a project already and I picked you.”

“Oh, um thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, till we get an A on this project.” Then she points a finger at him with a scary expression. “And don’t think I’ll be doing all the work either, got it?”

He nods and gulps as she smiles smugly and turns in her seat. She may be beautiful and flawless, but boy can she scare the crap out of him. The teacher starts explaining the project in depth and he listens carefully, taking notes and writing up ideas. Every now and then, he looks up from his notes to glance at the chalkboard.

Not a single scratch in sight.

\---

The jeep rumbles down the road, coming to a stop at Scott’s house as he honks the horn. A few seconds pass and his best friend comes running out to his jeep, hoping inside the passenger seat. They drive towards the new renovated Hale house as the sun beginnings setting down in the sky. The radio is blasting One Direction loudly, what they’re a good band ok! Both of him and Scott belt out the lyrics so off-key that birds seem to fly away when they pass them.

They finally arrive at the home in the woods, pulling up right beside Jackson’s Porsche. The hop out and walk towards the front door, where Derek is leaning against the doorframe, crossed arms and wearing a scowl.

“Hey Sourwolf! If you keep scowling like that, it’s gonna become permanent!”  Derek just gives him a flat look.

“Yeah, well it might become permanent if you both keep singing like that. I could hear you for miles.” Scott snickers, obviously knowing Derek would hear them once they turned onto the dirt road.

“Yeah, yeah like you're any better. Bet you put a Banshee screams to shame.” He knocks Derek’s shoulder, passing him to get in the house. Derek growls, but Stiles can definitely see the Alpha trying to hide his smile. Score one for Stiles’ Awesomeness!

He goes inside to see Erica, Boyd, and Isaac chilling in the newly living room. He can’t spot Jackson, but he thinks the later is probably off running or jumping off of buildings, since that’s the kind of stuff werewolves do. Stiles really like the new house, no longer the burned out shell of what used to be memories. It’s nice, warm, and welcoming, something Derek and the pack really needed.

Someone knocks his shoulder, making him turn his head to see Derek smirk at him. That’s another thing that has changed, the closeness with Derek. He’s still growly and easy to anger, but they're closer now, definitely loving to exasperate each other and sometimes even make the other one smile. They could probably almost count themselves as BFFs.

Stiles just sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes, sending a smirk right back at him before heading over to plop beside Isaac on the couch.

 A few minutes pass with a heated debate between himself and Isaac about who the best Doctor really is, when Allison and Lydia come inside, bringing with them pizzas and drinks. The smell makes his stomach rumble happily. “Mi Corazon! You’ve brought the pack nourishment and provided us all with your beauty and grace. What can’t you do?”

Lydia just gives him that look that says ‘idiot’, but that doesn’t seem to stop her from keening slightly from praise. A snort can be heard somewhere in the house, Jackson rounding the corner and coming to sit near Boyd. He’s obviously just jealous of how smooth Stiles can be. The girls bring the food over to the coffee table, placing it there as everyone starts to dig in.

“So, is there anything we actually have to discuss?” Scott asks with a full mouth, wiping his mouth with a napkin as he looks in question towards Derek.

Derek, who is sitting on Stiles' other side, has his thigh pressing into his own and making his chest fill with something warmth that Stiles quickly pushes down and feigns acknowledgement, just shakes his head and says “Pack bonding” before biting his slice of meat lover’s pizza.

No one complains, cause he knows they all rather take on conquering ten pizzas rather than another supernatural threat any day.

A few hours later, surrounded with empty pizza boxes and plastic cups, they’re all settled near each other on the couches and longue chairs. He remembers falling asleep half way during whatever science fiction movie, Isaac’s head on his shoulder and Derek’s thigh pressing into his own.

The pack also at least touches one other person when they have these bonding sessions, “a thing werewolves do”, but they’ve never just all have what Stiles likes to call a puppy pile. (He’s tried to convenience them before, many-a-times, but they always shake their heads and glare till he gets up off the floor.)

He’s dreaming of weird combination of pizza slices and unicorns when he hears a scratching noise like earlier. His shoulders tense, but Isaac doesn’t seem to notice, still sleeping on his shoulder. He carefully peeks open his eyes and sees nothing out of the ordinary, noticing everyone asleep like he was. He turns his head to the side and notices Derek is gone as well as Jackson, but other than that, nothing alarming.

Well nothing was, till he hears two pairs of light footsteps coming into view, not completely in the doorway, but enough of a view to make something inside of him clench.

Derek and Jackson are talking hushed, heads leaning towards one another; Stiles would bet theirs whispers wouldn’t even carry to the other werewolves’ ears if they were awake. Derek’s arm is around Jackson’s waist, holding him close so that they’re almost chest-to-chest. It’s when Derek dips his head down to bite at Jackson’s throat and lick, causing the latter till his head back in a silent moan, that Stiles closes his eyes again and pretend to be asleep. He breathes in deep, making sure his heart stays calm and doesn’t alert the two to his presence. He’s hasn’t dealt with everything this past year and not learned any useful tricks when it comes to werewolves and their abilities.

He knew Derek cared for his pack, kept up with them and their families whenever something came up. He even knows that the Alpha was keeping in contact with Jackson during his escape to London, helping him cope being away from the pack. But what he didn’t know was that they become close like… _that._ And somehow, it hurts.

A few minutes of his mind whirling and someone hits the coffee table with their leg, cursing and arousing some others from their sleep. Scott. And he accuses Stiles of being clumsy, pffft.

He decides that this would be a good time to pretend to wake up as Isaac lifts his head from his shoulder. He groggily sits up, making it look believable as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes and lifts his arms up and cracks his back, the others starting to stand up as they all notice it’s midnight and time to head home.

Obviously only Scott, Allison, Lydia, and Stiles are actually leaving to go home, since most of the betas usually stay here with Derek. Stiles slyly glances to the side to see Jackson and Derek standing separately, but still close enough that seems to confirm something silently in his mind to him.

As everyone heads out of the house to say goodbyes, he’s can’t help but feel like he lost something that he guesses he never really had.

Obviously Derek is really attractive, no one on the earth would disagree with that, but he’s also revealed himself to be caring and understanding. Now don’t get him wrong, they were never close with each other in the beginning. He thinks he could say they kind of hated each other.

Now of course, after everything, Derek and him have become friends, feeling a comfort level and trust there between them. But he guesses deep down inside that he had this hope that maybe something would happen between them, like something along the lines as being _more_ than just friends. He just couldn’t help reading between the snark but at the same time trying to prevent himself from not getting too hopeful in case it backfired like Lydia.

It’s just that now he kind of feels struck by a heavy weight after seeing that intimate moment between Derek and Jackson. Like watching Lydia confess her love to Jackson that night months ago, it’s just another unrealistic chance taken by the same person.

Guess him trying to not put too much hope in things never really works.

He’s broken out of his thoughts by Scott running up to him. “Hey! I’m just gonna grab a ride with Allison and Lydia, that ok? She said she wants to talk about stuff.”

“Pfft, dude go be Romeo and woo thy lady Juliet. I’ll be fine.” He smacks Scott on the arm for good measure. “Just don’t go starting a war between the McCalls or Argent, because I would totally be Mercutio in this situation and he dies first!” He hears snickers from some of the other werewolves, but he’s just stating the obvious truth!

Scott looks at him like he’s an idiot, which everyone needs to stop doing!, but smiles and nods nonetheless, running over to Allison’s car where Allison and Lydia are chatting about who knows what.

He can see Boyd, Erica, and Isaac talking and horsing around, Erica ruffling Isaacs’s curly hair while she has him in a headlock and Boyd is beside him, tickling his sides. A few feet away, Derek and Jackson stand close and appear talking normally. But Stiles can see Derek’s hand on Jackson’s shoulder, thumb rubbing into the exposed skin of his collar, making Jackson’s body lean into the personal touch easily.

He turns his head away and walks over to his jeep, silent and demure, but starting to hum a happy song as to make sure he doesn’t let any sad scent fill the air. As he opens the jeep’s door, he can hear Derek laughing freely at something mostly Jackson said. It’s almost kind of sad that he once thought he was special when he got Derek to even smile. But he’s fine though, always is. He’s dealt with this type of thing before, and he can certainly do it again.

Besides, beautiful people belong with beautiful people. 


	3. terra/γη

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> γη/ge~earth
> 
> just finished this one quick haha, couldn't wait to write it so here it is!
> 
> Enjoy! <3

 

He puts some of his books in his locker, closing it before heading to class. He’s tired but then again, when is waking up for school leave him feeling rejuvenated?

He slinks into the room, taking his usually seat in the middle of the class. He lets his head softly _thunk_ on the desk, closing his eyes as he enjoys the last few moments of restful peace.

Last night when he got home, he was nervous, ok scared, to fall asleep. What if he ends up back in the pool? What is he wakes up in the middle of the desert? What if he finds himself naked in bed with some random person he married in Vegas?

Hey, can’t rule out any possibilities.

So he stayed awake as long as he could before ultimately crashing around 4 in the morning. Luckily, he woke up in his own room to his dad knocking on his door and telling him that ‘he was going to be late if he didn’t get his ass out of bed.’

Someone pokes him in the ribs gently, but he ignores it, because no one shall disturb him from his slumber. A huff sounds from the person before he receives another poke, this time a little harder. He gives the perpetrator a flimsy swish with his hand, trying to silently communicate a polite ‘bug off’.  Apparently this person love to just torture poor weary souls like himself and starts to poke him over and over, digging into his ribs till he sits up and starts swatting the person a lot in the face.

“Ok Jackson,  _sheesh_! I get it, you need attention, so just calm down!” The person in question just grabs his hands tightly to keep from getting hit. 

“Well you snooze you loose Stilinski. Besides who else am I going to talk to in here?” People pass them as they go to their seats, giving them odd looks at two guys holding hands. Stiles tries to wiggle his hands out, but Jackson just hold them tighter. Damn werewolf strength.

“Well you could try talking to yourself, maybe get a mirror so people don’t think you’re completely off your rocker. Hey! You can use the one you have in your locker!” He sends a fake smile to the blonde who just gives him a blank look back.

“Ha ha you’re hilarious, seriously.” Dang so much sarcasm against the comedic relief.

He shakes their clasped hands from side to side but Jackson is just sitting there, smirking at him. Fine, you wanna play that game, well so be it! Desperate times call for desperate measures.

He looks towards the door and fakes a look of surprise. “Danny what are you doing here?!”

Like a mouse caught in a trap, the blonde turns to look just as Stiles leans forward and licks his knuckles. Jackson immediately pulls his hands away in disgust.

“What the freak, Stilinski! That’s so gross!”

He just sits there and smiles mischievously, rubbing his now free hands together. Jackson just scoffs and sits facing forward, trying to look pissy but totally failing to look anything other than an angry puppy.

The comparison makes him start snickering as he faces forward in his seat as well, feeling more awake and ready to take on the day.

 ---

They’re all at lunch, sitting at the usual table, shooting the breeze. Him and Scott are trying to see who can catch the most grapes in their mouth, Isaac and Boyd watching intensely with grins on their faces. Erica is sitting on the end of the table, snickering each time one of them misses.

“10 bucks on Stiles” she says with a sly grin.

He catches one perfectly and shoots her a wink and a finger point for her validated faith in him.

Lydia, who is feigning reading a book, says, “Nah Scott’s got this. His lopsided jaw allows for more sideways movement that helps to catch the grapes.” Scott fist pumps in the air as he catches another one, earning him a giggle from Allison.

“Well Stilinski talks a lot, so he could catch them all with his big mouth,” Jackson chimes in, sending him a smirk before biting into his sandwich. Danny laughs on the other side of him.

“Aww thanks Jackson for the encouraging support,” he says with a fake southern drawl. “Ass,” he mumbles while smiling like the Cheshire cat cause he knows they all can hear it. Erica snickers in delight and the corner of Lydia’s lips lift up a bit.

Jackson just bumps his leg into his, letting it get right up into his person space. It’s probably to make him uncomfortable or annoyed like this morning, but it ain’t gonna work!. He is the king at ignoring uncomfortable situations and ain’t nobody messing his swag!

They run out of grapes quickly, the death match tied 5 to 5 that of course will be later resumed at another lunch session. Everyone’s eating and talking, about everything and nothing. All that’s missing from the scene is Derek. As they’re all listening to something Lydia is explaining, Stiles peaks at Jackson from the corner of his eye for a second.

It seems like a mystery how life can seem to give everything to this guy. He’s got the looks, the money, the popularity, the perfect girlfriend (and guess, now handsome yet troubled boyfriend). It all seems kinda unfair. This kid used to like call him dweeb at the age of 5 and pick on him till he cried. The universe took a look at that and said ‘This kid deserves everything he could ever possibly want!’

Well the universe kinda sucks sometimes.

He shakes his head and focuses his eyes down on his food. He just needs sometime to get over his stupid unrequited crush on Derek and then everything will go back to normal. Maybe third times the charm in this game of love and the universe will say, ‘Well we’ve given everyone else awesome stuff, I guess we can let this guy have something too.’

Yeah, the universe better be planning something awesome for him.

He’s about to eat more of his grilled cheese when he hears a sound of metal sharpening against something. He looks up and everyone is still conversing with one another and eating as if nothing happened. The sound happens again, making him look around to see if some random person thought it would be a good idea to bring their sword to school today and sharpen it for show and tell. Yet no one even flinches at the sound.

Looking around, he stands up, heading towards the hallway. The sound echoes again as he steps forward, walking slowly.

“Hey yo Stiles!”

He turns around and sees Scott looking at him confused. Isaac and Allison are too, but the others are too focused on there own conversation, except for the small glances at him.

“Dude, where are you going?”

“Um..bathroom, before class..uh..yeah.” He nods a few times and hopes that makes sense.

Scott’s face morphs into understanding as the rest go back to their conversation. “Ok, better hurry since class is gonna start. Don’t need Harris on you’re tail.”

“Got it!” He salutes and practically runs out of the cafeteria, waking down the empty hallway.

The sound grows stronger as he slows his steps, echoing in his head. He knows this isn’t a dream, it can’t be, but _why_ can’t anyone else hear it?

Metal sharpening over and over again until it stops right as he comes to stand in front of the boys’ bathroom. He knows he should turn back, but he’s been wondering what these freaking weird sounds are, cause it’s really starting to creepy him out and get on his nerves, all at the same time. He needs to know what it is.

He pushes the door with caution and heads inside, letting it swing shut after him.

“Hello?”

He looks in the stalls, but sees not a soul in sight. Blowing out a breath, he walks over to the mirror, resting his hands on the sink as he looks at his reflection. The bruises on his neck are fading much quicker than he thought, making wearing a regular t-shirt safe today.

Right about when he’s ready to back head out, the same tickling feeling happens across his stomach. He’s reaching to itch it when the sound clanks loudly from behind him, causing him to spin around just as something slashes across his stomach.

His hands hold his stomach and yells, feeling in pain with blood soaking through his shirt. He’s then greeted by the same surrounding wall of black from days ago.

He's running and stumbling around in the dark, one hand clutching his stomach and the other in front of him trying to find anything to grab on to. His eyes can’t focus on any of his surrounding, only blurred images passing before his eyes. 

His feet suddenly come to a stop, to which he almost says finally, when an invisible force pushes him back harshly, sending him flailing into the black abyss. Right away dirt and sand is being thrown at him from left and right, covering him in huge piles. It packs on to his body until he can’t lift his arms up anymore and makes him feel like he’s suffocating.

The familiar pain shoots up his spine again as one last inhale of air brings him a mouth full of dirt, causing him to choke and wake up.

Immediately dirt is in his face, making him shut his eyes and mouth. Thick soil is pressing him down up from head to toe, forcing him almost immobile. He’s lying on his back and is starting to lose oxygen quickly. Using all the strength he can muster, he pushes his arms up, getting resistance all the way till he can finally stretch them in front of him and starts to claw at the dirt.

After digging upwards through the dirt, his hand hits cool air, making him sigh internally with relief. He claws and kicks his way to the air, trying desperately to break free.

A few minutes of digging upwards seems to finally reward him as he gets his head free and takes in a breath, gasping rapidly in the cool night air. He takes a moment before continuing to kicking and struggle from his dirt prison, just wanting freedom and room to breath.  He gets free up to his stomach and then switches tactics by digging his fingers into the damp earth and claws the rest of his way out.

When his calves are out of the hole, he turns over to lay on his back and kicks his feet free of the last of the dirt. He breathes in and out, one hand holding his stomach that burns from all the effort. His blinks a few times and wipes away the excess dirt to get a great view of the stars shining dimly, tree tops standing along the sides of the view. Ok, so he’s in the forest and covered in dirt. Someone took the one with nature thing a little bit too far.

He sits up slowly, his stomach protesting painful at the movement. Giving a pained sigh, he hops up to his feet, immediately cringing and biting his lip harshly, feet kicking at the dirt to keep to get out his frustration without yelling.

A few more shaky breaths and the pain becomes a little less harsh, well at least less unbearable. He looks down at the ground and sees in terror-stricken shock what he climbed out of.

It’s a grave. A shallow, almost two to three feet deep grave in fact. He was buried in there, alive. Right in that thing. Covered in dirt. In the forest at night. 

Oh! And did he also mention HE WAS BURIED ALIVE?!!!

Holy sh...holy s… he deep breaths, needing not to have a panic attack right now. His stomach stings, making him use his hand and carefully lifts the hem of his shirt. His eyes widen in horror at the long bloody cut running from hip to hip, right in the lower, middle part of his stomach. No freaking way did he do this to himself!!!

He pulls his shirt down and looks around, trying to find the way out of this forest. If he disappeared that first night for an hour or two, he can’t even begin to imagine how many hours it’s been this time. Noon-to dark probably means it’s about oh, in-deep-shit o’clock. He does an ennie-meanie-minie-mo and follows the path his finger points, praying that it will lead him to somewhere familiar, hopefully Derek’s, if he’s in the right part of the woods.

After wandering through the unfamiliar woods for half-an hour, he finds an opening leading to the school, where he sees his jeep. It would be a blessing, except he realizes doesn’t have his keys. Seems he has to make the long walk home, again.

“ARE YOU KIDDING M-ow!” he yells exasperated, throwing his hand in the air before cringing at accidentally stretching the sensitive, cut skin of his stomach.

 He sighs exasperatedly before heading on the familiar path back home. Being covered in dirt this time isn’t exactly a plus. The only positive side is that he’s wearing shoes this time.

Over half an hour later, he’s walking up to his neighborhood when he looks towards his house and silently curses. His dad’s cruiser is parked in the driveway, along with Derek’s Camaro, Jackson’s Porsche, Allison’s SUV, and Scott’s motorbike. He bet $100 that the rest of the pack is there too. All the lights in the house are on, making him think that just five more minutes, and his dad will have the whole cul-de-sac swarming with cop cars. It stinks to have kind of had hoped it would be like the pool night with no one worried about him missing, but tonight is just not his night.

He walks slowly up to the door, making sure his hands are by his side and away from his stomach. Loud, arguing voices are sounding through the door, making him nervous. If the werewolves in there are distracted enough to not hear him approach, then things must be really serious.

He goes to grab the door handle just as his dad is pulling it open, head still turned away, towards the living room.

“YOU CAN DO WHATEVER THE HECK YOU WANT HALE!” His dad turns with his head down, pushing buttons at his phone. Stiles can see only Derek standing by the staircase, eyes to the ceiling and rubbing his hands over his face exasperatedly. “BUT I”M CALLING THE SQUAD AND FINDING MY-“ his dad lifts his head and stops in his tracks when he sees him.

“Umm,” he coughs dryly, “hey dad.”  The sound of is voice makes Derek snap his head forward and the rest of the pack run out of the living room to see him.

“Stiles,” Scott says with a somewhat horrified expression on his face. “What heck happened to you?”

“Um…” he looks down at his clothes and shoes, covered almost black with soil. “Long story” he shrugs with a ‘what can you do’ face.

The pack just continue stare at him silently with ‘what the fuck’ faces.

“So…” he slaps his hands on his legs. “What’s goin-ooof“ his dad pulls him in tight, holding him close as if scared he might disappear.

“God, Stiles. You scared the shit out of me.” He lets his arms hang loosely, not wanting get his dad dirty, but the arms around him keeping tightening until his carefully wraps his own around his dad.

He buries his nose in his father’s shoulder, trying not to let his dad nor the pack know just how truly scared he actually is. A hand lightly touches his arm, causing his eyes to snap up to see Derek closer than before and looking worriedly at him. The whole pack have all come a bit closer, all of them looking concerned and ready to fire off questions.

It's their faces that make him decide that he can’t tell them; not now at least.

His dad finally pulls back and herds him into the house. Scott’s pushes past Derek to crush him in a hug, making Stiles bit his lip to keep from groaning aloud as the armful of his best friend crushes against the wound on his stomach. Hopefully if the wolves smell pain, they’ll think it’s from him being crushed to death.

Scott pulls back and grabs his by the shoulders. “Dude what...”

“Where the hell have you been?” His dad cuts in sounding upset with an underline of terrified worry, which makes a rock of guilt sit heavy in his gut. “It’s almost one in the morning, so you better have a good excuse.”

One in the morning?! Jesus. Even if he tried to tell them the truth, he can’t even begin to try to explain it. He going to have to lie to his dad, and to lie-detecting werewolves; he readies his breathing, regulates his pulse, and says the first thing that comes to mind.

“Deaton.” Everyone furrows their eyebrows in confusion.

“Deaton?” Isaac asks confused, sounding obviously like he wants to call it a lie but hearing no blip in Stiles' heartbeat. Yeah, he’s pretty skilled like that.

“Yeah, I went to the restroom and Deaton called me, saying that he needed to see me immediately about an important emissary spell.”

Erica opens her mother to protest, “But you’re jeep…”

“Yeah, he came to pick me up and we went to practice the spell at the clinic. The spell took a lot of hours, a transportation spell which is super difficult but really, really cool.” Which isn’t exactly a lie, but him and Deaton have only gotten to transport like pens and paper, but details. “I mean, I finally got it on the last try, buuuuttt…it ended up sending me into an unfamiliar part of the forest. Somewhere really west.” He flaps sideways nonchalantly.

Allison waves a hand up and down at his frame, emphasizing the state he’s in. “Ok, but you’re covered in....”

“Tripped,” he shrugs easily. “Thought running would help me get back to here sooner and, well, discovered that some of my ideas aren't exactly the best.”

Lydia huffs out a laugh, shaking her head at him in disbelief. Even Derek’s lips are slightly quirking up.

Jackson just shakes his head at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Only you Stilinski,” saying it with something that sounds like extremely fond again. Geez! He really needs to get more sleep, because this shit is already wearing him out, making him see and hear things.

His dad rubs a hand on his forehead, still looking at him in disbelief. “I should be upset that you skipped school and just took off for hours, but I'm more relieved that you're ok. But you didn’t think to at least call?”

“I…” he stops and pats down his pockets, no cellphone on him. “Shi-“ his dad give him a look, “-taki mushrooms! I must have dropped my phone when I fell down the hill.”

Everyone sighs tiredly, as Erica pipes up, “Guess that would explain why you look like you rolled around in dirt.” Boyd snickers behind his hand. We'll just for that, Boyd is officially not his favorite puppy of the month anymore. Ha!

“No Erica, I just went outside today and decided that I go would bury myself seven feet in the ground. You know, super duper fun stuff,” he sasses back, trying to sound as sarcastic as possible.

Everyone rolls their eyes, the werewolves obviously hearing the lie by the purposeful blip in his heart. Haha! Take that super powered puppies! It was three feet, not seven bitches!

After a moment, he swallows dryly and looks at his dad again. “I’m sorry though, Dad. I didn’t mean for you to worry or make everyone panic.” He’s says it serious, telling the truth at least about this.

His dad’s eyes soften instantly, walking up to him and pulling into another firm hug again. He knows that he should feel embarrassed, but he’s too tried and worried to give a hoot about anything.

His dad lets go, clapping an hand on his shoulder. “You must be hungry at least. I think there's a 24-hour dinner close to the station. Want me to pick up some food?” Oh god yes, curly fries!

He nods quickly, stomach loudly rumbling in agreement, making him look down at it in shock. His dad shakes a head with a smile while the others giggle and snicker at the sound.

“Go take a shower kid and I’ll be back with food,” his dad says as he heads towards the door. “The rest of you all I presume are staying for a late dinner?” The pack immediately nod and yell ‘yes please!’ in agreement,

 Just as the front door closes behind his dad, a hand grabs him and pulls him forwards into a muscular body.

“Whoa! Hey!” he flaps his arms ungracefully, but Derek doesn’t pay even attention to his flailing extremities, sticking his stubbled face right into the crook of his neck.

“Dude!” he says, trying to push Derek’s shoulders to get him to back off, but the guy just squeezes the back of his neck, sniffing and nuzzling firmly. Dang he’s gonna end up with stubble burn so bad at this rate, which shouldn’t be a turn on but it is…NOT that he is acknowledging that fact, cause he definitely does not have the time or energy to think about anything.

“You smell wrong,” Derek growls off, “like…” he pulls his face back to look into his own honey-brown eyes. Oh god, he can smell the cut, oh shit his cover is blown.

“…dirt.”

Oh thank heavens that he’s covered in it, one positive aspect of this situation at the moment. None of them can smell his stomach wound.

“Well dang Nancy Drew, you just go around solving all the mysteries. don’t ya? You don’t need to smell me to figure that out,” waving his hand towards his obviously dusty covered clothes and hair.

Derek gives him an unimpressed look, but then frowns at him. “It’s not right when one of us doesn’t smell like pack. You know how important scent is to us Stiles,” explaining like he's talking to a child, which he guesses he is sometimes. “Plus, it’s what you get for running off without telling anybody.”

“It wasn’t my fault the spell transported me to freakin Oz!” He argues it vehemently, almost as if it’s the truth.

Derek snorts at the same time Scott does. Man, he can just _feel_ the love.

The pack move towards them, touching Stiles on the arms in relief, checking to make sure he’s ok. Derek’s hand never leaves his neck, rubbing tender circles that makes him want to curl up like a cat in front of the fire.

“Well I’d love to stay and have a cuddle pile, buy I’m gonna go take a shower, because being covered in dirt is fun for only about two seconds.” He slips away from the pack, Derek’s hand brushes down his neck.

Erica ruffles his hair with a smirk as he passes, making him stick his tongue out at her.

“And nobody touch my curly fries when my dad gets back!” he yells as he travel up the stairs, laughs coming from the living room. He heads into the backroom and locks the door behind him.

Showering is a gift and a bit of a bitch, because he loves cleaning off the dirt, don’t get him wrong, but when the water hits his stomach, he wants to scream bloody murder. The only thing that stops the pack from running up the stairs and bursting through the door is that he’s biting his lip till it almost bleeds.

After getting cleaned off and dried off, he takes antiseptic spray and sprays it on his stomach, literally stinging so bad he cries a bit. It’s not deep, but boy does it burn.

Once sprayed with liquid fire, he wraps special, bandage tape around his waist to protect the wound. It’s tight and hurts a bit, making him breathe in and out strained, but at least it’s protected. He sprays up any other small scratches then sneaks into his room and slips on sweatpants and a hoodie. The pack’s voices grow louder as he makes his way down the stairs and heads into the dining room/kitchen.

The packs talking and eating food, reaching to grab more occasionally from the huge pile of take out in the middle of the table. His dad looks up as he comes into view.

“Finally, I can see your face!” He rolls his eyes some of the pack smirks at him. “Got you some curly fries.”

He smiles, clapping a hand on his dad’s shoulder. “Thanks dad,” then goes to take a seat by Scott.

“Ok you kids, I have work early in the morning so I’m headed to bed.  Stiles, make sure to lock up when everyone leaves and don’t go leaving this house until school time.”

“Ok dad” he sighs dramatically, making his father rolls his eyes and head up the stairs.

As he begins eating and moaning at the heavenly taste of the golden brown potato-ey goodness, he hears Scott sniffing and turning towards him.

“Stiles, why do you smell like antiseptic spray?”

This draws the attention of the table, which should make him panic, but he’s rehearsed his answer easily already. No sweat.

He rolls his eyes and takes a bite of his burger. “Scrapped my knees and shins. Wanna see?”

Scott makes a grossed out face, while the others go back to their food. He focuses on his own food, ignoring Derek’s eyes occasionally looking at him searchingly.

A hand reaches across the table and snatches a curly fry, making him outcry in horror. Jackson smirks at him and pops the fry in his mouth.

“ _You…”_ he stands and narrows his eyes at that cocky expression, feeling ready to leap over the table. But he’s stomach hurts a lot, so instead he grabs what's left of his burger and chucks it at Jackson’s face.

Allison, Erica, and Scott sputter and burst out laughing as Jackson looks back at him shocked. He can even see Derek, Isaac, and Boyd trying not to smile. Lydia’s head is turned away, but he swears her shoulders are shaking. He sits down slowly in his seat, smug smile on his face as he pops another one of _his_ fries into his mouth.

Jackson goes to grab his own food to throw, right as Derek growls out “Jackson stop.”

Jackson huffs but follows the command, sitting down with a glowering expression while biting at an onion ring. Haha!

Stiles: 1  Jackson:  Zilch!

\---

An hour later, Stiles waves goodbye to the last person to leave, Scott as he peels out of the drive on his motorbike. He shuts the door closed, locking it up and heading back to the dining room.

He clears the table, cleaning up all the trash and putting it in the garbage. Last thing he needs is for his dad to wake up to a mess. Once fully satisfied with the cleanliness, he turns out the lights and heads up stairs to his room. That bed is calling his name.

He walks into his room ready for sweet sleep when a hand touches his shoulder, making him jump.

He turns and sees with relief and frustration, its just Derek. “Dude! Are you trying to trying to give me a heart attack?” He holds a hand over his heart, trying to steady his breathing back to normal. He almost wonders where the grumpy wolf came in from, when he sees his window open. Oh, forgot about that one.

“No Stiles. I’m just checking up on you.” It would probably sounds sincere, if Derek wasn’t rolling his eyes.

“Well I’m fine, it was just a bit of magic dude. It’s all good, so thanks for dropping by.” He ducks out of Derek’s arm, practically running and gently lowering himself onto his comfy bed. Oh lord, it’s like laying on a cloud.

He’s in a state of absolute bliss when a sound jerks his eyes open to see Derek shucking off his leather jacket and hanging on the back of his desk chair. Why is he here, shouldn’t he be maybe making out with Jackson or something?

“What are you doing?” he asks drowsily.

Derek sits down, kicking his legs out in front of him. “Making sure that you’ll be ok. You went missing for over 12 hours.”

“Keeping watch over me?” he huffs, feeling groggily. “I’m not a child…don’t need a babysitter.”

Derek just crosses his arms and starts looking around at all the stuff hanging on his walls.

He would push the werewolf out, not yet wanting to be alone and face the pain of his unrequited love so soon. But he doesn’t have strength to even lift a pencil and his stomach is sore, so he leaves him as it is, figuring that maybe someone watching over him will help prevent any middle of the night disappearing.

He’s eyes keeping dropping, making it harder to fight sleep. He hears footsteps approach him as Derek pulls up his blanket and lays it gently over him.

He feels a hand softly brush his bangs on his forehead, fingers lingering on his skin and making him frown his eyebrows. Derek shouldn't do that; making his feelings a mess and his chest hurt. But before he can whisper out “don’t”, he falls asleep to dreams of laying on the forest ground, stars shining above him from the night sky. 


	4. growl in vestri gutter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> growl in vestri gutter~growl into your neck
> 
>  
> 
> we're getting there! More drama and suspense is coming! Oh lordy buckle up for more for the feels bus!

The melodies of birds chirping hit his ears as he slowly open his eyes to see the sun peaking through his window. He inhales a relaxed breath though his nose and sits up to stretch his arms out, cringing a little from the pull of his stomach wound. He blinks a few times to glance at the clock, showing he has about an hour before school. Turning to see that he’s alone in his room, the immediately feeling of relief courses through him, since he’s pretty sure if Derek had been here, his cover would have been blown a minute ago.

He gets up and starts to dress, slowly of course to make sure that his stomach doesn’t hurt anymore than necessary. Once dressed, he grabs his spare jeep keys from the back of his sock drawer and heads downstairs. Luckily, he remembers that he left his backpack in his locker at school; it makes him hopeful that his phone is there too.

He’s prepared to either have to ask his dad for a ride or make the long hike to school when he comes downstairs and sees Derek pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Um…”he says confused with one hand on the railing of the staircase.

Derek looks up and asks, “You wants some coffee?”

That only makes him says repeatedly, “Um…” as he comes towards the kitchen. After a moment, he nods slowly, “sure….”

Derek pours him a cup and hands it to him, then lifts his own coffee and drinks from it. Stiles looks down at the coffee in hand then swivels his head around to see if anything is out of place, checking to see if maybe he’s still dreaming. That would make much more sense right now.

“Your dad had to leave early and was going to give you a ride, but I called him and told him I’d do it.”

He snaps his head back to look at Derek in surprise. “Oh, cool…um thanks.” He takes a sip of the hot beverage, trying to keep his mouth occupied from asking questions that are bugging his mind, like ‘why does he want to give him a ride to school’ or did ‘he stay in his room all night?’ Some how this leads to his mind asking if  ‘did Derek do anything naughty to pass the time while he was asleep?’

He accidently gulps down the beverage and coughs out harshly. Derek pats him on the back and takes his cup to set it down, rubbing his back soothingly as he gets his breath back.

“You good?” the Alpha asks a bit concerned.

He can only nod, trying to let his burned throat heal a bit.

He can see Derek look at the wall clock before clapping a hand on his shoulder, turning him around and beginning to pus him gently towards the front door. “C’mon, your father doesn’t want you to be late.”

He huffs silently at the babysitter treatment, but allows himself to be guided to Derek’s Camaro. 

\----

Derek pulls his car up to the front of the school, causing a few heads to turn towards the new arrival. It makes him want to sink in his seat to get away from the attention. He can also see how Derek is not-so-secretly enjoying his squirming with all these eyes on him, a smirk appearing on his gorgeous face as he revs the engine for added show. _Stupid, smug werewolf._ But then an idea hits him on how to show the Alpha who really has the upper hand. Hahaha!

So he opens up the door and hops out, turning to Derek to thank him.

"Thanks Grandpa, you’re the best ever! Oh and don’t forget to take change your Depends when you get home!” he says out loud with a big smile, making sure the people gathered around can hear. His ears are rewarded with a few snickers.

Derek scowls and growls lowly, making him snicker as he continues his act, “Also take a nap cranky pants! I know how achy and tired your new hip replacement can make you!”

Derek growls louder, hissing out, “Stile-!” But he cuts-off the Alpha’s next words by slamming the door shut and waves with an overexcited expression, turning to laugh quietly as he walks to school. He can already picture the murderous expression on Derek’s face, not doubt cussing up a storm inside the car.

He’ll for sure get it later, but the expression on Derek’s face makes it so worth it.

He walks up to the door and sees Erica and Isaac leaning against the door and biting their lips to keep from smiling, obviously hearing everything he said. It makes him grin and keeping walking into school, acting like the true grace of innocence.

 --- 

The day passes uneventfully until they get to lunchtime. He had already decided in his mind during Harris’ boring lecture that he would go and talk to Deaton, decided he needed to discuss this whole tiring and freaking terrifying ordeal with at least one person.

Plus, if anyone knows what hocus pocus is going on, it’s Deaton.

So once the bell rings for lunch, he jogs to his locker and pulls out Scott’s phone that he lent him this morning and grabs his backpack too. It could take all lunch period to get more information, so he has to be prepared to run to his first afternoon class. He’s almost free to leave when the pack suddenly swoops in out of nowhere to stop him. 

“Stiles, where are you going?” Scott asked, panicked.

“I have to go see Deaton again. Don’t worry I’ve got your phone and I’ll call you immediately if something happens,” he said, waving the phone in the air and heading towards the exit.

“Wait! Someone should go with you!” Isaac yelled, grabbing his shoulder to halt his movements.

“Nah man, it’s ok! It’s literally just a trip to the clinic and then right back. No magic disapparating happening today!”

“Isaac’s right!” Lydia nodded her head with a determined expression, ignoring what he just said. The others all seem to agree.

“Someone should drive you,” Allison points out, crossing her arms as everyone get on broad with that idea.

“What? No, c’mon guys, I...” He struggles against Isaac’s grip, but it’s a tough fight against his werewolf strength.

Everyone starts to plan about who is volunteering, before he hears, “I’ll go with him.”

Stiles and the whole group turn to look confused at Jackson, who pulls his keys out of his pocket, swinging them around on his finger. He just keeps a nonchalant look on is face, letting his shoulders shrug. After a minute, the pack look at one another then nod, while Jackson meets his eyes and smirks at him. _Bastard._

“Fine!” he stamps his foot and starts walking towards the double doors and heads out to the parking lot.

He’s just makes it outside when a hand touches his lower back, a body coming close to his side. “Slow down cupcake, no need to rush,” Jackson says with an unseen smirk.

He elbows back into the jock’s stomach, making him feel like he just hit a brick wall, but he feels successful when he still hears a huff from Jackson anyways.

He keeps his eyes forward as they walk to Jackson’s Porsche, trying not to let his mind focus on the fact that Jackson’s hand is still resting on the small of his back.

They reach the car and hop inside, Jackson speeding off towards the clinic. He sits in the passenger seat, watching the scenes passes before his eyes in a blur as his backpack rests in his lap, hiding his stomach from sight. It’s another secret that only Deaton needs to really know about.

They arrive outside the Veterinary clinic in less than five minutes as they both hop out to head inside. But as they reach the entrance, he knows he can’t have anyone listening to what he’s about to discuss, so he turns around and presses a hand to Jackson’s chest to halt him.

“Sorry, this is private conversation. Um, you know, emissary to emissary. So um…” he falters a bit at the glowering look Jackson gives him, but continues on, “You should go for run! You pups love to run right?! Good exercise while us adults talk.”

He’s taken by surprise when Jackson moves forward against his hand and crowds into his space, making his back press against the glass door. Whoa, whoa, whoa! “Are you hiding something Stilinski? Because I can tell there’s something that you’re not telling me.”

“Well for one, personal space dude! Like really. And two, I don’t make these secreting magic meeting rules, Deaton does, so if you want to try to mess with him, I’m sure you’d love to get a face full of mountain ash.”

Jackson looks into his eyes, making him gulp as he stares into the deep abyss of the beta’s eyes. His heart pounds in his chest, feeling like his breath is being stolen from his lungs, before a hand comes up and curls around his own laying on Jackson’s chest, slowly bringing his own down to rest at his side as the blonde takes a step back.

He then turns around and starts walking towards the woods, yelling out, “You’ve got twenty minutes Stilinski! Better hurry!” Then like lightning, disappears into the trees.

Letting out a breath, he turns and heads inside, ignoring the racing of his heart.

“Deaton! Hey man, you here?!”

The passive vet walks out from the back, looking curiously at him. “Stiles, what do I owe the pleasure for the visit?”

“Um, well…” he turns to look at the door, seeing Jackson not in sight. Still he doesn’t trust the beta won’t try spying, so he turns back to Deaton. “Ok, well first do you have any of the sand you were talking about a few months ago? The one to make sure no one can hear us?”

Deaton nods wordlessly and goes to a drawer near the corner of the wall, pulling out a bag and motioning him to follow to the back of the clinic towards his office. He nods and follows him, closing the office door behind him and standing near the desk as Deaton starts to pour a circle of the white pearl sand around the both of the room.

Once the circle is completed, Deaton walks inside of it and takes a seat behind the desk.

“What can I do for you Stiles?”

Here goes nothing.

“Ok so a few nights ago, I’m going to sleep like around 11, you know early night, get more rest blady blah blah. So anyways, I’m laying in bed and I feel this, like tickling in my throat, immediately followed by the feeling of a hand choking me and dragging me down into complete darkness. A few minutes of struggling and the feeling disappears, but I wake up in my school’s swimming pool.”

He pauses to see Deaton listening to him, not showing any emotion on his face yet.

“So I was freaking out, cause I don’t know how I got there in the first place! Plus, I had to walk home soaking and barefoot, which let me tell you freaking sucks! Anyways I get home, shower and just think maybe I slept walk, you know trying to come up with explanations to it. But then I look in the mirror and see bruises in the shape of fingers! Fingers! Like what the heck?! Here!” He unzips his bag and pulls out his phone that he hid, pulling up a picture he took of the bruises that night for proof, and hands the phone over to Deaton to see. The vet takes it and looks at the picture with a frown on his face.

“I took that a few days ago and they disappeared fast as you can tell. I thought it was a onetime thing, untilllll….until yesterday when I went to the bathroom during lunch after hearing like this metal grinding sound, to investigate. Didn’t find anything but all of a sudden I feel the same tickling feeling in my stomach before being slashed across the abdomen and pulled into the darkness again.”

He lifts up his shirt and starts to pull the bandage tape off, exposing the red, puckered wound on his stomach. The vet’s eyebrows rise up in surprise, before looking into his own eyes.

“Did you end up back in the pool?” he asks with a serious expression.

He shakes his head and smacks his hands on his legs. “Nope. Instead, I ended up buried alive under three feet of dirt in the middle of the forest, with this bloody looking wound.”

Deaton’s face is slightly looking worried and a bit shocked, which considering the vet relatively has 99% calm face on all the time, is definitely a big deal.

“Oh, but the best part is, that after I have to make the long journey back home again, I find the whole pack and my dad worried as shit, because turns out, it’s one in the freaking morning! One Doc! Over twelve hours unaccounted for, which is still really freaking me out along with everything else!”

Deaton looks down at the phone once more before setting it down and standing up, walking around the desk to examine his abdomen wound closer. He then looks up and examines his neck, turning his head from side to side. After a minute he steps away and goes to grab a book from one of his packed selves.

“Well Stiles, the wound on your stomach already looks like it’s starting to heal, which makes me know that this couldn’t be from natural cause, like sleep walking as you suggested. Especially as I examined the photo of your neck bruises, which have a bigger indentation than your own slimmer fingers and seem to have sharp points at the end of the discoloration. Which leads me to the point, that I believe this is pointing to something supernatural, as shown by the accelerated rate at which the bruises are healing, since normal bruises don’t begin to heal until a week or more after initial bruising.”

Deaton seems to find the book he was searching for, pulling out an old leather one with navy binding around it. He flips it open, skimming through a few pages, making Stiles’ own nerves start to feel jumbled. Supernatural cause for anything is never a good.

“Is there anything else you remember pertaining to the blackout periods?” he asks, never once looking up from the book’s pages.

“Um, well the first time felt like I was in the ocean, being thrown around like laundry in the washing machine. The second time I was running till I was having dirt piled on top of me. And…” he tries to think back to the almost dreamlike experiences. “And…each time before I woke up, there was like this shooting pain that went up my spine.”

Deaton let out a “hmmm”, before shutting the book and going back around to sit at his desk.

“I think I need to keep looking into the information you’ve already brought me and see if some of my emissary contacts can help divulge anything. But if I could guess, I would say we might be dealing with a malevolent spirit. Why it’s picked you and what’s its end game might be, is still unknown to me.”

He breaths out, feeling a bit defeated and a whole boat load of worried.

“But keep practicing you’re incantations Stiles. The last thing I want you to do is to give up and allow this force to control you. That’s what it wants, my theory at the moment, because you and I both know the extraordinary power you will possess in the future if you can learn to control your gift fully.”

He nods and readjusts his bag straps on his shoulders. He turns to exit the circle of silence, before a thought stops him.

“Doc, um, I told the pack and my dad yesterday that you picked me up from school yesterday and we were training during the time I disappeared. I’m hiding this from them because we don’t know how to explain. If you could keep up appearances if Scott and Isaac ask later, that would be great.”

Deaton stares at him for a minute before nodding. “I’ll get right on the information. Don’t worry Stiles, we’ll figure this out.”

He nods, saying “thanks Deaton” and steps out of the sand circle. He opens the door to the office, walking through the clinic to go outside.

He immediately spots Jackson, leaning against his car with a grumpy expression on his face. He can’t help but feel smug for asking Deaton to use the silencing sand, knowing full well Jackson would try to ease drop. And by the sour look on the blonde’s face, he was right.

Which is why he can’t resist from asking, “Have a nice run?”

Jackson just growled and got in the car, slamming the door, causing him to snicker as he got in the passenger seat.

The headed back to school, this time cruising instead of speeding. After a few minutes of tense silence, he sees Jackson’s hands release their tight grip on the steering wheel. He decides to ask a random question from the top of his head

“So in London, did you go to clubs a lot? You know, partying your nights up?”

He turns his head to see the blonde’s lips quirking up. “Nah, not really my scene.”

His eyes widen in surprise, before he smirks a bit. “Why not? Not posh enough for ya Whittemore?”

After a moment, the blonde replies back quietly, “too lonely.”

Well shit, that makes him feel like an asshole. Makes sense why Jackson would come back, never feeling the deep connection to anyone as he did the pack. He looks down and nods, understanding the feeling completely. “Sorry” he mumbles out turning his head to stare out the window again.

He tenses when he feels a hand touch his own that rests on his backpack, brushing a thumb over his knuckles. “It’s ok,” Jackson says sincerely, making him let out a breath he was holding. He's also a bit glad that his heart rate somehow stays under control.

Jackson removes his hand as they pull into the school’s parking lot, the warning bell ringing loudly outside.

He looks up to see Derek’s Camaro parked near the back, the owner leaning against the car, looking up as they pull in beside him. All of a sudden, he wants to run away and stick his fingers in his ears screaming, LALALALALA! Anything to avoid seeing these two together.

Him and Jackson both get out of the car, as Derek starts to walk over. That’s where he takes off.

“Hey ya Derek! Nice to see ya shining face again!” He starts running towards the school. “Thanks for the ride Jackson!” he shouts, jogging to the entrance of the school to head inside, feeling the both pair of eyes follow his movement.

Once safely inside, he sees people running to their class, a few minutes left before teachers start handing out detentions. He turns to look back outside and sees Jackson and Derek talking closely, Derek’s hand rubbing up and down Jackson’s arm. Jackson seems to nod on something before Derek leans down and kisses him sweetly, making Stiles turn his head around and blink his eyes quickly.

 He keeps his head down and walks to class, feeling a little heavier with each step.

 --- 

Sitting on the bench in his lacrosse gear, his eyes watch as Scott runs towards the opposing goal, Isaac and another teammate bulldozing other players down in defense. Practice is always a good way to relieve stress for the werewolves. Scott aims his stick, before swinging forward, making the ball sail into the net before the goalie can even blink. He smiles as Scott’s team cheers in victory. What a long way they’ve come since first joining.

He hears a growl to side of him, a few feet back from where he sits. He turns his head, expecting to see Derek, but there’s no one there.

It’s then when the growl is right beside his other ear, warm breath hitting his neck that he freaks out, making him immediately want to tense up and scream out loud till-

“Stilinski!”

He turns his head sees Coach looking at him annoyed, the other players standing around the field talking to one another.

“I called you a few times, but you must be day dreaming about the pretty daises. You’re in, so c’mon!”

He nods quickly, putting on his helmet and running out to the field. He’s gotten better this past year, being more cardio fit because of running with the pack. He’s even gotten better and ramming into people, which is a bonus when the other team doesn’t suspect his capabilities.

He gets ready for the play as Coach blows the whistle, players immediately running towards the ball. Jackson scoops it up first before throwing it to Isaac, who takes off down the pitch towards him, making him get ready to catch.

Isaac spots him and throws it hard at him as he swings his stick up and swiftly catches the pitch, making him tear down the field towards the goal. It would be an awesome score, had he been able to see and avoid one of the guys running towards him diagonally. It’s all too late when he does spot him as the guy rams into him, hitting his stomach full force.

He lands on his back, immediately yelling out in pain as the wound in his stomach screams in protest, burning as if on fire. The guy on top of him scrambles to get off before being forcefully pulled off by Jackson. Isaac pulls the blonde back to stop him from lashing out.

He groans, clutching his stomach as Scott kneels down next to him. “Dude, oh gosh, what’s wrong? Where’s it hurt?”

“My stomach,” he bites out as Coach pushes through the players gathered around to kneel on his other side.

“Stilinski, how bad is it?” Sometimes he almost forgets that Coach can actually be caring.

“Bad coach, bad.” He breathes out, trying to will the pain to diminish.

"Ok, let me see,” Coach waves his hand, as Scott nods and goes to grab his shirt.

“No!” he yells, immediately making everyone pull their hands back in shock. He can't have questions about the wound. “I just need some…ice. Ice, please.”

Coach nods slowly, before signaling Scott and Danny over. “McCall, Mahealani! Help him up and take him to the nurse.”

They both nod and each grab one of his arms, helping him stand up slowly and start the long trudge to the nurse’s office.

He tries to ignore the low growl he hears somewhere to the side of him, not wanting to acknowledge that the sound might not have come from any of the werewolves.

\---

 Scott parks his jeep in front of the Hale house as they both get out, him of course more slowly because of the soreness in his stomach. The nurse gave him ice after he refused to lift his shirt, not wanting anyone to see the wound. He had looked at it when he went to the bathroom alone and let’s just say it wasn’t a pretty sight, now having bruising accompanying the cut.

At least he now has an excuse when the wolves smell he radiates pain.

Scott runs off into the woods to chase after Isaac, Erica, and Boyd who probably took off a few minutes ago to go running. The “meeting” won't start till an hour, so they have time to get out pent up frustration. As for himself, he decides to head inside to rest on the couch, not wanting to pull his wound anymore than he has.

He walks in hearing silence and thinks no one is in the house until all of a sudden Peter is in his face.

“Stiles,” he drawls out, “so lovely to see you again.” Just when he almost forgot the guy came back from the dead, he gets a cheery reminder in the form of a werewolf that is too fond of deep V-necks and sometimes gives him the creeps

“Ah, Peter Pervert! Good to see you too! How’s it going with spinning your web of lies and creeping people out?” he sasses back. He tries to walk to the living room, but Peter easily and firmly pushes him against the wall.

“Wait now, my favorite pack member. Can’t we catch up, because I’ve sure missed you and you’re way with words.” Peter grins at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He leans forward, making Stiles push his head back as far as the wall will allow. Peter doesn’t stop though, leaning close to whisper in his ear. “Makes me want to claim that pretty, talkative mouth of yours for my own.”

“Wow Uncle Creepy, I didn’t know you could be so romantic,” he rolls his eyes and tires to push the werewolves chest away.

A hearty laugh fills his ear as Peter draws his head back to look at him. “Well you know me Stiles, I’ve never hidden any of my intentions.” Peter looks at his mouth for a moment before leaning in, and holy shit! Peter may be handsome, but he is super fucking creepy. He’s rambling internally again, but words can’t seem to form coherent sentences in his mouth and he might be feeling a panic attack coming on and--

Two loud growls ripple through the room, as Peter pulls his head back to look with a smirk at the werewolves.

“Get away from him Peter” Derek bites out, looking pissed. Stiles swallows, because yeah, Derek’s protective of his pack, but he looks absolutely livid at the moment.

“Now, now nephew. Me and Stiles were just having a little talk”, Peter says almost good naturedly, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Derek growls even louder showing off his sharp teeth as Jackson looks ready to pounce. What is going on here?

Peter steps back from him, raising his hands up in defense, the grin never leaving his face. Jackson immediately rushes to his side, putting an around his shoulders and guiding him into the living room to sit. He turns his head to see Derek pushing Peter outside, talking angrily and lowly in his ear.

He sits down as his mind goes haywire. The whole incident makes him feel confused. Sure, he can see how his spastic grace and witty charm has appealed to the oldest Hale member, but the whole scene a moment ago is just throwing him off, and Jackson’s hand rubbing his the side of his neck doesn’t help one bit. The blonde’s head is turned towards where the Alpha and his uncle went, obviously able to hear what they’re talking about.

A few minutes later Allison and Lydia comes inside the house, arriving with food and games for the night’s entertainment. Jackson takes that moment to pat his shoulder before heading outside to talk to Derek probably.

He gets up to help set up the food, when his eyes wander towards the open door, noticing Jackson and Derek have walked away from the house and closer to the woods, talking privately as the other betas can be seem play fighting a good, non-hearable distance from them. Derek’s is face towards the woods, shoulders tense and arms crossed on his chest. Jackson walks up behind him, gently wrapping arms around his middle and placing his head near the Alpha’s shoulder blades. He sees how Derek sighs in ease and reaches a hand to cover one of Jackson’s own.

“It’s funny isn’t it,” a low voice whispers in his ear, seeming to be watching the pair too. He recognizes that it’s Peter, who seems to have snuck up on him, only this time there’s no purr to his voice, but a seldom tone. “…how at one period of time, my motives might have seemed questionable, hiding a blood thirsty vengeance behind them, to which I can admit.” Derek turns around to push his forehead to Jackson’s, closing his eyes and wrapping both arms around the blonde beta tight. “But maybe through this whole time, it was never _me_ that you had to worry about hiding anything.”

Peter rubs his shoulder in finality before heading off towards his own room, leaving him standing there, feeling like he’s buried right back in that three-foot grave. 


	5. aer/αηρ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> αηρ/aér~air
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all for giving this story a chance! You all are amazing! 
> 
> And hold on tight my lovely readers, cause this one is gonna hurt

You ever have that sinking feeling where it seems like everyone is hiding something from you, like maybe they all meet up secretly to talk about you behind your back?

He is laying flat on his back in bed, his body feeling exactly those thoughts while his mind restlessly remembers how at the pack dinner he couldn’t help but glancing around at everyone, wondering if it was just a nonsense worry or a serious problem.

Peter hinted that someone was hiding something. He can obviously infer that it has to do with Derek and Jackson’s relationship, but there’s something else that’s bothering him. Sure, the two haven’t shown PDA openly in front of the others, but they don’t seem like they’re actively trying to hide it, which leads him to think they are keeping something from him. And if they are keeping something from him, who’s to say the others aren’t in on it too?

He groans, rubbing his hands over his face. These thoughts are just messing with his head, making falling asleep practically impossible.

He flops his hands back down by his sides, rolling over to face his moon-glow window. He needs to just let these doubts go, because if he’s to be honest, it’s a bit hypocritical when he’s the one not telling them the whole truth. The thought makes him absently rub his stomach, feeling the wound already begin to scar. He really hopes Deaton can find something out from his emissary friends because he doesn’t want to think about where the next bruise or cut will be.

With a heavy sigh, he heaves himself out of bed and heads downstairs to the kitchen. Maybe a midnight snack with calm his ever-working mind.

He hops off the bottom step of the stairs and pads off to the kitchen, flicking on the lights and grabbing some bread. He also grabs the peanut butter and jelly and fixes himself a sandwich, middle-school-lunch style. In no time he's finished with his simple masterpiece, sits himself down at the table and bites slowly into the snack, letting his mind ease down like the sweet jelly and smooth peanut butter in his mouth.

Footsteps alert him as he turns to see his dad in his plain-clothed pajamas, coming into the kitchen.

“Couldn’t sleep?” his dad asks with a slightly worried expression.

He nods. “Yeah, just can’t get my mind to calm down.”

His dad nods in understanding and walks over to the fridge, pulling out the carton of milk and pouring some into two glasses. He then pads over to the dining table, taking the opposite seat while he puts a glass in front of his son.

“Thanks,” he rips off half of his sandwich and offers it to his dad, who takes it gratefully with a smile. Both Stilinski men eat in silence, occasionally sipping milk to wash the snack down.

His dad finishes off his glass, before looking at him with his hand folded. “So kiddo, what’s on your mind?”

He looks down for a moment, playing with his fingers before trying to answer his dad. “ When you found out why I was lying to you for all those months, how did you feel?”

His dad’s eyes widen a bit but rubbing a hand over his mouth. “Well, I was upset, mostly because of how much you put yourself in danger. I understood you just wanted to protect me, but the parent should be the one worrying about the child. But I guess in the end, I was relieved that I finally understood what was going in your life; like I was finally able to see what you were dealing with.” He reaches his hand over to clasp on top of his own. “To feel like I could finally make sure you weren’t taking on all this supernatural bs alone.”

He huffs out a laugh, nodding as he feels a spiral of guilt settle in his stomach. His dad deserves the truth more than anyone.

“Dad, um…when I came back last night, covered in dirt, it wasn’t because of a mixed up spell.” He swallows at the look of concern growing in his father’s eyes. “It was because I ended up buried alive.”

He father face goes to shock. “Buried alive?! What the hell, how…”

“I don’t know. I end up blacking out for a long time and waking up in places like that.”

“Places like that? So this has happened before?” His dad’s tone turns a bit angry, but he can tell underneath, there’s terrified worry.

“Once before that, I went to bed early a few nights ago and woke up in the school’s pool. I thought it was me starting to sleepwalk, but that was before I got this.”

He pulls up his shirt to reveal his stomach scar.

“Jesus,” his dad exclaims, immediately getting up and coming around the table to turn his chair towards him and kneel down to examine the wound. “God Stiles, it looks like someone hacked a knife straight across.”

He lets out a shaky sigh, feeling fear settle in his bones. “And when I hiked back from the school after the first time I woke up, there was bruises on my neck, in the shape of fingers.”

His dad grabs his neck, trying to see the already faded bruises with worry on his face. Suddenly, the concern on his face melts into a look that says he ready to murder someone. “Did someone do this to you? Is it one of the pack, did one of them take their anger out on you?”

He shakes his head. “No, Deaton thinks its some supernatural entity, but he doesn’t know what exactly it is yet nor why its coming after me.” His dad nods before pulling his head to his shoulder and wrapping his arms around him tight.

“God, is that what you were worrying about? You’ve got to tell me these things kid; I can’t have anything happen to you.”

He feels a little choked up as he nods, wrapping his arms around his dad to grip the back of his dad’s shirt tight in his hand. He was actually worrying about the secrets that the pack might be keeping, but he guesses his mind tries to focus on trivial things instead of life-threatening ones.

His dad lets him go to rest a hand on his neck. “It’s late, so you need to go get some sleep, but tomorrow, I’m going with you to Deaton after school and we’re gonna try to figure this thing out. No exceptions.”

He nods wordlessly as his father helps pull him up and starts guiding back up to his room with an arm around his shoulders. It feels like a flashback to when he was ten years old and would sneak down for a midnight snack when he couldn’t fall asleep, only to have his father end up guiding him back to his room with gentle hands on his shoulders.

His father helps him to lie down in his bed, tucking his covers around him like a child. He then kisses his forehead and ruffling his hair softly, before leaving quietly back to his room.

His breathing slows down as his eyes start to droop closed, almost ready to drop off to dreamland when he hears the sound of his window opening and the soft sound of footsteps approaching his bed.

The person is blurry, making it hard to try to tell who it is, but he feels like they're familiar. He’s too tired to clear his eyesight and try to talk so he falls asleep; the last thing he remembers is the person brushing their thumb over his cheek. 

\---

He throws his backpack in his Jeep and hops in the driver’s seat, shutting the door and rolling down his window for his dad to talk to him.

“Once you get out of school, text or call me and I’ll meet you at Deaton’s, ok? Don’t try to leave me out of this one, cause I’m not letting you handle this on your own.”

He nods, turning the keys in the ignition as the engine starts up. “Got it dad.” He starts to pull out of the driveway, calling out to his dad, “See ya later!”

His dad waves to him as he heads off to school, turning on the radio and letting the sweet lyrics of U2 float into his ears. 

His fingers tap against his steering wheel to the beat as he pulls into the parking lot, immediately spotting the familiar black Camaro. He can see the pack already here, milling about outside near the trees by the lacrosse field. They don’t notice his arrival yet, but Derek does immediately getting out of his car as he pulls his jeep in a space towards the back.

He turns the engine off and grabs his bag, already hearing the Alpha’s footsteps coming closer as he prepares for whatever they are going to talk about. He opens the door and smiles slightly, playing of an air of ease. “Hey man, what’s up?” He pushes his door closed and turns to look at Derek.

“Nothing, just wanted to check how you’re doing?” Derek crosses his arms over his chest, making the olive green shirt stretch against the definitions in his muscles. He shakes his head clear, trying to not be caught staring too long.

“Good, you know just went to see Deaton yesterday and went over some more magic mumbo jumbo, nothing big. But I’m guessing you already knew that from Jackson.” He smirks at the memory of the blonde’s failed attempts of ease dropping, pulling his backpack straps onto his shoulders.

“No, I mean like…” Derek sighs in frustration, obviously never good with words. “Are you ok? Last night you seemed...off.”

He feels confused until it hits him. “Was that you in my room last night? Because dude you are not helping at all with the campaign to get rid of the job title creeper from your resume’ when you do stuff like that.” He chuckles, walking around Derek to head towards his friends.

Derek keeps in stride with him. “I was out for a late run and passed by your house, which smelled like worry and fear. I wanted to check to see if you and your dad were ok.”

He smiles a bit at the concern, but waves a hand nonchalantly. “Yeah, we’re fine. Probably just a bad dream I can’t even remember now. But thanks for your concern.”

A hand reaches out and grips his arm, making him stop in his tracks and turn towards Derek. “You just lied.” Shit, he forgot to regulate his heartbeat.

“Dude, it doesn’t matter ok. Just some late night man-to-man Stilinski talk. Deep stuff happens to come out after midnight over PB&Js and milk.” It’s not really a lie actually, since the truth is in the details.

Derek narrows his eyes at him and takes a step forward. “You’re not lying now, but I feel like you’re hiding something from me. Even Jackson said…”

Oh lord, not another day of these two rubbing their gooey relationship in his face. He’s too tired to deal with this. “Yes Jackson told you I’m hiding something cause he’s pissed at me that he didn’t get to ease drop on emissary stuff me and Deaton were discussing yesterday. You can tell him that Deaton's silencing sand is the bomb, but it doesn’t mean I’m hiding anything.”

Derek looks like he’s about to argue when the warning bell rings.

“Look I’ve got class and you’ve got to go do whatever you do. Now if you could please let go of my arm, that would be great.”

Derek tightens his grip for a second, before reluctantly letting his hand fall down to his slide. Stiles turns quickly and heads inside, foregoing to join the rest of the pack and ignoring the burning gaze on the back of his head. 

\--- 

All day has felt like he’s been on autopilot, too focused on his meeting later with Deaton and his dad. Plus, he’s keeping an ear for any supernatural noise, only hearing silence from the mysterious entity so far.

The pack have seemed noticed his lack of attention, making them huff and sometimes whine hypothetically for his attention. He tries answering yes or no, hoping to satisfy their random questions through out the day, but he knows his lack of focus is making everyone worried or pouty. Even freaking Jackson has been extra grumpy today with his lack of talking in their shared class, making the jock resort to kicking his chair when he wasn’t getting his undivided attention.

Thankfully it nears the end of the day as he changes into workout gear, only having to get through lacrosse practice before the meeting with the vet. Coach didn’t want to push his stomach with any more chance of injury, so he’s on laps today, which is fine since he’s gotten better at cardio due to the extra running during pack training.

He puts his headphones in his ears, hitting play on his ipod as he walks outside as some of the players head to the field while others go with him to jog on the track.

He starts off a slow pace, building up to a steady jog. The music pounds in his ears, each beat in sync with his feet hitting the rubber track. It’s therapeutic to run against the breeze, feeling his lungs expand and contract in his chest; like cruising away from the worries of tomorrow in his Jeep . He’s so focused on his thoughts that he doesn’t notice someone jogging up beside him till they knock his shoulder with theirs. He stumbles a bit but regains his rhythm, turning to see Jackson smirking at him.

He rolls his eyes and focus his gaze back to the trees ahead, wanting to get lost again in the feeling of the run. He continues to ignore the shoulder bumps the blonde does to him.

In a blink, Jackson suddenly runs in front of him, turning to run backwards and obviously showing off. G _eez, yes Jackson, we know you’re good at sports so why don’t you just go take off for a few laps and leave him alone._

He shakes his head and moves to run around the blonde, when the hand reaches for his arm and stops him, ripping out his headphones.

“What’s your problem Stilinski?”

He pushes Jackson’s arm off. “My problem? I don’t have a problem jerk,” he scoffs and starts to walk away, before Jackson runs in front of him again and pushes at his chest.

“Obviously, there’s something going on so if you go around ignoring the pack and me!

He pushes back against the blonde’s chest. “I just have a lot on my mind right now, ok?! I’m not trying to ignore anyone, and get over yourself Jackson! Not everything so about you!”

Jackson grabs the front of his shirt just as Coach blows the whistle.

“Hey!!! Whittemore and Stilinski break it up before I bench you both for the whole season!”

He pushes at Jackson’s hands that let go, turning and stomping back over to the locker room, ignoring the looks Isaac, Danny, and Scott are no doubt giving him. 

He gets inside and opens his locker, throwing his ipod on the top shelf and taking off his sweaty hoodie. _Stupid Jackson. What a selfish prick._

Loud footsteps sound as the person comes in from outside, but ignores them in favor of changing. That is until someone slams his locker door close and grabs his shoulders, turning him around and pushing him back harshly against the metal door with a echoing clang.

“You think you can ignore me?! Huh?!!” Jackson growls, blue beta eyes flashing into his own.

He pushes against the beta’s chest, already knowing that anger is never a good sign when facing werewolves. “Back off Jackson.”

Jackson’s roars, the sound echoing in the locker room as he push his hands against his shoulders to hit against the locker again. Jesus, that gonna leave a bruise. The blonde’s teeth start to sharpen as the hands on his shoulders move down to grip his thin t-shirt covered sides, claws pricking against his ribs.

“YOU WILL TALK TO ME!!! YOU WILL LOOK AT ME!!!" Shit, Jackson barely sounds human, starting to loose control of his wolf fast. This thing is taking a really bad turn.

Just as Jackson looks about ready to attack him, someone rips the jock away, making his body slam against the lockers on the opposite wall. His savior Scott steps in front of him, roaring as Isaac swoops in to wrestle Jackson, who was rearing to fight, back down to the ground to try and calm him.

It’s too much, the confusion and anger and fighting making him feel like he can’t breathe. So he grabs his old hoodie and takes off running back outside, ignoring Scott calling his name.

He slips the hoodie back on, not stopping his fast sprint outside, running away from the lacrosse field and track. His back is throbbing as he turns the corner, and he’s scared to even see if Jackson’s claws drew any blood on his sides.

Suddenly his arm begins to tingle, _oh shit,_ and just as he hears Scott shouting for him and trying to find him, a pain crushes his arm and pulls him into blackened darkness.

He’s being thrown around in the air, his feet never finding purchase on any dry ground. His whole body feels like Dorothy’s house in the Wizard of Oz, spinning around and around in a tornado. It scares him to think where this darkness will take him. But just as he starts to feel sick from being so dizzy, the sharp pain in his spine hits him and his eyes open to look up into the bright blue sky.

He’s floating in the air for a second, like at the top of a swing, before gravity pulls him down, making him scramble for anything. “SHIT!!!”

His body unconsciously turns to the left in mid air before he smacks down hard on his arm onto the gravel road, making him yell out in excruciating pain until his voice chokes off, as his eyes begin to water.

He swears he heard bones crack as he rolls on to his back, clutching his left arm. He’s trying to breathe through the unbearable pain, not being able to help the few tears that escape from his eyes. He must have at least fallen ten feet from the air, no doubt in his mind that his arm is broken. After he gasps through the pain, he sits up to see where he his.

He can’t help the strained laugh that bubbles from his lips when he sees that he’s in the back parking lot of the Beacon Hills hospital, because the irony of it really amuses and pisses him off, all at the same time. At least this time, there’s still day light.

He gets up slowly, feeling pain throbbing on his hip and the side of his upper leg. He then slowly begins to limp a bit to the hospital back entrance, wanting to get something to take away this pain.

 --- 

He’s sitting still on the examination table as the Doctor on call wrap his arm carefully in the cast mold. He broke the humerus in two places and fractured his elbow, but it feels disconnected thanks to Melissa giving him some awesome pain medication. 

They’re just about done when he hears his dad’s voice coming closer to where he his, sounding concerned and unsatisfied by Melissa’s calm, nurturing words. Of course they would call his dad when he shows up with a bruised and broken arm.

“Obviously, he’s fine not fine if he ends up here Melissa, so let me see my son!”

His dad opens the door to the room and takes one look at him, before rushing over to gingerly touch his uninjured shoulder.

“What happened?” he asks with horror in his eyes.

“Lacrosse accident,” he shrugs, obviously lying in front of the doctor, who can’t know the exact truth.

His dad gets the hint and nods, as the doctor finishes the cast and helps put his arm into a sling to prevent him from moving it around.

“There you go, Stiles. Melissa will make sure that you’ve got enough pain medication if it starts acting up. Now, no lacrosse or any other physical activities for a couple of months so we can let it heal without possibly injuring it more. Sound good?”

He hopes his arm heals fast like the rest as he nods solemnly. The doctor smiles and heads out of the room, Melissa closing the door behind him.

His dad immediately turns to him, once the coast is clear. “Ok what really happened? Is this the same thing with the entity?”

Melissa, who knows all about the supernatural shit storm of their lives, walks closer looking concerned, “Entity?”

He nods. “There’s this thing that’s like haunting me, guess it can’t resist the Stilinski charm." Melissa raises an unamused eyebrow at him. "But yeah, I was running during lacrosse practice and all of a sudden something grabs my arm and I’m flying in the air like trapped in a tornado till I wake up again and fall from like ten feet in the air onto my arm.”

Both parents wince harshly, his dad eyes the injured arm with apprehension. His dad glances down to look at his watch, before looking back at him.

“I though you said a lot of time past between blacking out and waking up? The time now is just about when practice would end.”

He shrugs, obviously confused at drawing the same conclusion. “I don't know, usually it has been at least a few hours, but now, it was like mere seconds.”

“Something’s haunting you Stiles?” Melissa asks to clarify. He nods as she asks with motherly concern, “And this has happened before?”

He looks at his dad as they both explain the events that have been happening this past few days.

Melissa who looks shocked, ask, “Do the pack know?”

He shakes his head. “I haven’t told them yet…” Melissa looks ready to protest before he says, “…mostly cause I don’t even know what’s going on. I went to Deaton yesterday to see if he knows anything and he didn’t, but we’re hoping we can go see him today and ask if he has found anything.”

She nods, but says, “Well, I still think you need to tell the pack. They can probably help at least knowing.”

He shakes his head, hopping off the bed with his dad’s hand on his uninjured elbow to steady him. “I’ll tell them eventually, but they won’t be able to do anything. If Deaton, who is a trained expert emissary, and me, who is beginning to become learned in all things magical, have no idea what’s going on, I doubt a bunch of werewolves, a banshee, and a hunter are going to know how to solve this.”

He starts walking slowly towards the door, his dad pulling it open for him.

“Stiles,” she touches his back gently. “Please, tell them. They care about you and at least want to try to protect you.”

He sighs and nods, thanking her for the help as him and his dad head towards the front parking lot.

“I’ll drive us to the clinic,” his dad says determined and stern. “We need to end this, and fast.”

He couldn’t agree more. 

\--- 

They pull up to the clinic, parking and walking towards the entrance. He sees Scott’s motorbike and doesn’t think anything of it, until they go inside as Isaac and Scott look up and freeze when they see him. _Shit._

“Stiles!” Isaac exclaims, horrified.

Scott runs over, hand hovering over his arm in the sling. “Dude, did Jackson do this to you?”

His dad looks at him from the side, but he sputters and shakes his head. “No, dude, he didn’t do this. Its… something else.”

Scott’s ready to ask more questions when Deaton comes out from the back, eyes immediately seeing the damage of his arm. “Scott, Isaac you can close up early and go home.”

They turn quickly in surprise towards the vet.

“But….” Scott starts, silenced when Deaton raises a hand and shakes his head.

“The Sheriff, Stiles, and I have some important things we need to discuss. Privately.”

He can feel the guys turn to look at him, but avoids their eyes and keeps his gaze on some kittens playing around in a cage near the corner of the room. The guys eventually pass by him, leaving out the door as Deaton goes to lock it behind them. He hears the sound of Scott’s motorbike revving before taking off down the road.

Deaton stands there for a moment, before turning towards them. “They’re gone. Now, if we could step into my office, I can discuss the information I found.”

His dad nods quickly in agreement following the Vet into the back as he trails after them both, ready to learn as much as he can about what’s going on.

The ring of pearl sand is still there, making him feel a little relieved as they step over it to sit around Deaton’s desk.

The vet opens a bound brown journal, before turning his attention to him. “Now my emissary contacts gave me some ideas as to what might be the cause. I also have another idea from an old colleague of mine Dr. John Harobaldi, a professor at the University of Rhode Island who has a PhD in Folklore and Cultural Mythology. But first, I want you to tell me what happened to your arm.”

“Same thing as the others, only this time I was running during lacrosse practice and got pulled by the arm into something that felt like a tornado, only to wake up looking at the sky and falling from 10 feet above the ground onto my arm.”

“It also happened in the span of less than a minute,” his dad says. “I’m sure he’s told you the others were at least hours apart before he woke up.”

Deaton nods his head and starts flipping through his journal. “So this one dealt with the element of air?”

Both him and his dad look confused for a moment, before he answers, “Yeah, I guess.”

“And the first occurrence of waking up in the pool was dealing with water, while the second dealt with…”

“Earth,” he finishes for the vet, earning a nod in response. Buried alive in the soil of the earth.

Deaton continues his train of though, “At first I was thinking it was about the injuries you were sustaining but now I can see each time is focusing around the elements, which leads me to believe the next will be fire.” Him and his dad immediately cringe at that thought cause geez, he’s gonna be burned alive next?!

“What does this have to do with whatever is harassing my son?” his dad speaks up with angst and worry.

“Dr. Harobaldi spoke of the mythological beliefs of the Ancient Roman and Greek civilizations, whose origins procured the famous gods and goddesses to which I’m sure you’re familiar with?” he looks up to see them both nod before going back to his research.

“Yeah, of course, so what does that mean? Like Zeus is trying to kill me with the elements?”

“No, the gods and goddess were purely fictional characters imagined by the minds of the civilians, who chose to believe in them. But the fact remains that the people in ancient times, held the elements as invaluable signs of their mythological rulers. The raging waters of the sea seen as a sign of Poseidon’s anger; the magnificent flame of fire, a work revered as Hephaestus’ power. Never did an element’s pattern or action go unnoticed or forgotten by the people.”

His dad rubs a hand over his mouth, as he leans back in his chair. “That still doesn’t explain what’s happening to my son, Doc.”

“Ah, see while there were no overpowering gods and goddess living on mount Olympus, there was magic power in the form of the earliest emissaries who were just coming to fruition in their practice.” He leans forward on his, interested in what the vet is explaining about their origins. “Some would practice in secret, knowing  full well their gifts were dangerous if seen by others. What’s the phrase you say Sitles, 'With great power comes great responsibility?'”

He can’t help grinning at the Spiderman quote while his dad shakes his head, chuckling. Suddenly, Deaton’s lightheartedness fades into a serious expression.

“But some wanted more then what they were given, the greed of power enveloping their minds completely. That is where they begin the practice of worshipping the occult, summoning the damned souls of hell with the elements to gain rule over the dead and the depths of evil.”

He sighs before turning his journal towards them and laying it on the desk. Both him and his dad lean forward to see a picture of a dark irregular shaped shadow, glowing red eyes burning as rampant as a forest fire.

“They summoned something damned alright, but it was not there to grant their wish for more power. Instead, the demon they called, devoured their sparks and left their bodies mangled and bloodied for the city guards to see. It was most likely recorded down as an animal attack, no deity-fearing person believed otherwise.”

“So there’s a thousand year old demon after my son’s…spark?”

“Yes, but how it found you and why is beyond my idea. Once the emissaries who kept their powers hidden found out of the supposed “animal attack”, they put a spell on the casting site and made sure the demon would not escape from its fiery hell again. Somehow, after thousand of years waiting, it has found a worthy spark to try and escape it’s prison to come after it.

“But I just learned how to transport a pen from one place to another. I mean, sure I could become powerful, but not at this very moment.”

“A threat is a threat Stiles, no matter how trained it may be. Your spark is what can satisfy its hunger but also destroy its being completely.”

“But why can’t we see it, why doesn’t it just kill me now?” He’s getting upset, feeling a chilling fear travel up his spine. His dad immediately puts his hand gently on his shoulder, trying to comfort his distraught son.

“Each injury that you’ve sustained disappears quickly in a few days, much faster than any normal ones would heal. Even you’re stomach wound is probably already closed up and scaring.” He nods because he checked this morning in the mirror. The vet continues, “My guess is your arm will heal in less than a week or so, because the injuries aren’t permanent. The demon is not fully escaped from hell, making its power is not fully damaging against you. But if it does get your spark, there will be no stopping it once it escapes and will kill you indefinitely.”

“Is there a way to stop this thing, because its not taking my son!” He dad squeezes his shoulder firmly, sounding a bit choked up and angry.

“I’ve already been working on a spell with the help of other emissaries and hopefully will be ready to teach Stiles how to use it. The important thing is to still research what and who this demon is exactly, because if we know its name, we have an crucial hold over it.”

He nods his head, bringing a hand up to his shoulder to touch his dad’s hand. Tonight he’ll research Greek and Latin occult and try to find out everything he can. He can’t let this thing take him from his dad, not when they already lost one important person from their lives.

His dad grabs his hand and squeezes, probably thinking the same thing.

After a moment of reflection, he nods and stands along as his dad follows his lead. “Thanks, I’ll keep practicing what I know and research more.”

The vet nods as his dad extends his hand and shakes Deaton’s own. “Thank you Doc, we’ll call you if we find anything and you do the same when you finish the spell.”

Deaton nods with a determined look in his eyes. “Will do.”

His dad claps a hand on his shoulder and helps guide him  from the sand circle and out of the office, heading to leave. The sky is beginning to dark from the look at the windows and they pause for a moment to wait for Deaton to unlock the front door.

“You should also know Stiles, “ he looks up at Deaton, “that the pack is outside.”

He silently curses, but allows his dad to push him towards  the door. “Thanks Deaton,” he mumbles quietly.

He immediately spots Scott, Isaac, and Allison by his bike, turning their heads towards them as they come outside. Boyd and Erica are standing near them, their shocked eyes not leaving his casted arm. Lydia stops in mid sentence by Jackson, turning to look aghast at his injury too. Jackson seems to have a look with a mix of concern and guilt on his face while Derek is sporting a dark glare, arms crossed tight over his chest.

Yeah, he’s in trouble. Gosh dangit. Freaking Scott and Isaac, worrying everyone here.

Derek takes the first step towards them, when his dad holds his hand up to halt him. “Now I know you’re all worried, but it’s late and my son is tired so I’m going to take him to get his car so we can go home and rest his arm.”

It should appease them for a time but the pack however, don’t take his words easily.

“Sir,” Derek says, “I understand that what you’re saying but we would like to talk to Stiles. Have a short pack meeting to find out what’s going on.” He can feel his dad wanting to protest on his behalf, because he would very much not like to talk to them yet, when Derek says, “Please, we worried about him.”

And that right there softens the Sheriff’s expression, his dad nods his head and he internally groans and whines.

“I’ll drive him to get his car,” Derek says before motioning him to get in the car. _So subtle._

The Sheriff nods as the pack then get in their respective vehicles. His dad turns him to face him and places his hands on the shoulders, a comforting weight against the distraught waves in his chest.

“Listen I know you want to stay clamed up, but just talk to them ok? They care and if were going to deal with this, we'll need all the help we can get.”

He sighs out, but nods a little, his dad hugging him quickly before stepping back.

“I’ll be up waiting for ya,” and then walks over to his cruiser, leaving him standing there and taking a deep breath. He hears Scott revving his engine, waiting for him to move, so he takes his cue and walks over to Derek’s Camaro, getting in the passenger seat without a word.

It’s just its just him, Derek, and Isaac, noticing for the first time that Jackson’s driving his car with Lydia beside him.

Derek takes off down the road, speeding past everyone else as they head to the school. He doesn’t say a word and neither does Derek or Isaac, the former giving off a fuming aura. He sees out of the side of his vision, Derek’s fists gripping the steering wheel as if he could squeeze the life out of it.

In under five minutes, they pull into the school’s lot, parking close to his jeep, that happens to be the only vehicle left.

He silently gets out, but not before with surprise that so does Derek and Isaac, the Alpha throwing his keys to Isaac.

“Meet us at the house,” he says, earning a nod from the curly-haired beta as Isaac hops back into the Camaro and speeds off.

He gulps at the sudden realization that it’s just him and Derek, but Derek doesn’t stop walking. Derek pulls out an extra set of keys from his leather jacket pocket and unlocks his jeep, making him frown in confusion. How?

Derek must be a mind reader, because he grumbles out. “You left your backpack at school, so Scott got your keys.”

He nods silently as they both get in the car, him carefully not to hit his arm. Derek gives him a moment to get safely in the passenger seat before starting his jeep and speeding to the Hale house.

He can feel his heart slowly being to race, matching the rhythm of the throbbing in his arm. He knows the fight coming on, he knows he’s gonna have to explain, but his mind is trying to decide if opening the door and rolling out would spare him for a minute.

The pain in his already broken arm is a silent ‘nope.’

All too soon they drive up the dirt road to the renovated house, the pack’s cars already there. Derek turns off the engine, taking the keys (damn!) from the ignition and gets out. The Alpha slams the door closed and heads towards the house without waiting to see if he’s following or not.

He takes a breath and gets out of his jeep, closing the door with a soft click. He walks slowly to the front door, each step making him think he could turn and try to book it and see if he makes it far. But then survey says that he wouldn’t make it even 20 feet from the house before the werewolf speed catches up to him. Man, isn't he just full 'awesome' ideas tonight?

He walks in, expecting to see everyone sitting around the living room with the “this is an intervention” face, but he’s first greeted instead by Peter leaning against the doorframe, looking a bit worriedly at his arm, which is practically crying with concern for Peter.

He frowns a bit confused before walking into the living room to see the pack sitting around, but wearing the “oh god what happened” faces. Derek is by the fireplace, his face turned away from everyone else with only his tense back showing. Jackson stands a few feet from him, horrified eyes staring at his cast.

"How bad is it it?" Erica asks immediately, face wincing at the sight of his arm.

"Broke my arm in two places and fractured the elbow."

Boyd whistles, mumbling out, "Man.."

The conversation lulls to a stop after that. Everybody keeps looking at him yet nobody says anything for a few moments, the only sound heard is crickets chirping outside. 

Jackson is the one to break the silence. “Did I…?” he nods to his left arm resting in the sling.

He shakes his head quickly. “Dude no, it wasn’t you. This was my own clumsy fault, it’s no big deal and…”

A loud, angry growl sounds from Derek, making him and everyone in the room tense up.

“Everyone leave” the Alpha bites out.

The pack, excluding Jackson, follow the command, heads bow down as they file from the room. Peter claps a hand on his uninjured shoulder, funnily a small comfort from the guy, before he leaves with the rest. Scott is the last one, meeting his eyes looking sorry before scooping up the jeep keys Derek left on the coffee table and leaving the room. The front door swings closed shut with a click, like the final note in of a symphony, but he knows that the pack will still be outside listening to what’s about to happen.

He hears Derek take a deep breath, before turning to face him, a pissed off expression on his face.

“Wanna try that explanation again?” he motions with a hand to his arm. “Or do you just want to keep lying?”

He swallows. “I didn’t lie, this wasn’t Jackson’s fault.”

“Oh I know that” Derek says with a scowl, “but apparently, it was an accident. Right? I mean like you said, you’re clumsy.”

He twists his mouth and looks away from the Alpha’s piercing eyes.

“What? Can’t come up with another lie?” He hears Derek walk closer to him. “What did you and Deaton talk about?”

He refuses to look at Derek, refuses to say anything.

“Melissa told Scott that your arm wasn’t an accident. He said she was concerned because some _entity_ did this.”

He should be mad at Melissa, but he knows she only cares about his safety. She’s like a second mom, making him feel only grateful to have someone like Melissa McCall in his life. 

But back to the problem at hand of feeling trapped and caught up in his lies. Derek growls at his silence and grabs his jaw, turning his head to forcing him to look into Derek’s eyes. “You will talk to me and look at me!!!”

And suddenly his stubborn mask crumbles, his mind flashing back to Jackson wolfing out in the locker room earlier, making breathing quicken in fear.

Derek immediately backs off, sensing his fear and trying to reign himself in from loosing control.

“What is going on Stiles?” he ask with a frustrated snap.

He looks back towards the window, answering quietly “Melissa’s right.”

He can feel both wolves’ head snap towards him, but he ignores their gazes. “There’s something supernatural coming after me and it takes delight in physical pain.”

“So you hid it from us? From the whole pack?!” Derek seethes, making Jackson step closer to place a hand on his shoulder.

“Yes! Ok! I did, because I didn’t know what the heck was even happening until today!”

“You could've still told us Stilinski,” Jackson chastises, sounding like a concerned parent.

That just sets him off. “There is nothing any of you all could do!” He huffs out angrily, “We deal with supernatural shit all the time!"

Derek counters, "Yes, _together_ Stiles _._ You can't just take this all on your own!" 

He huffs angrily, gritting his teeth. "Why the hell does it matter?! Why do you guys even care?!”

Both werewolves growl back, before Derek roars, “BECAUSE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOUR MATE!”

_Mate?_

He's stunned, his mouth opens and closes a few times. “But-but you and Jackson...”

Derek and Jackson simultaneously groan, the jock turning around and walking over by the fireplace while Derek scrubs a hand over his face exasperatedly.

“Both of you are my mates," the stubbled-face Alpha begins to explain, gritting out the truth as if it pains him. "Wolves tend to lean more towards polygamous relationships easier than humans. But if you want to know why it matters, it's because my wolf cannot handle anything happen to the both of you. I care about you both equally and fully,” Derek grumbles out, with an underlying tone of anger still linger which each word.

Jackson nods in agreement with Derek’s argument. "He's right. It can drive us insane if something were to happen to you, which apparently is what has happening."

He's at a loss for words.

“You may have thought you could do this on your own, but you need to understand…” Derek keeps on talking about something, but it all fades from Stiles’ ears as he stands there frozen in his spot.

They knew, they knew he was their mate and didn’t say anything. Just mentioned it now like it was no big deal?

Did they just decide they could let him in on the joke? After months?! Finally acknowledge his little crush on them? Is he just a _kink_ to spice up their relationship? He feels a shudder travel up his spine at that thought as his eyes begin to water.

_Peter’s voice floats into mind “...maybe through this whole time, it was never me that you had to worry about hiding anything.”_

_‘I care about you both equally and fully,’ Derek grumbles out_

_..._ _equally and fully…_

_…equally and fully.._

_…equally and… bullshit_

_....bullshit...._

_bullshit bullshit busllhit_

_BULLSHIT!!!!!!_

The word keeps echoing over and over in his head until he yells it out loud,

“BULLSHIT!”

Derek, who was talking, stops to a halt as a startled Jackson looks at him confused. Those two selfish bastards don’t deserve to even look at him!

“I’m your _mate?!”_ he seethes out, feeling fire spread through his whole body. “For both of you?!”

They blink and nod slowly, like they think he doesn't understand. Oh, he understands alright! Com-plete-ly. Derek opens his mouth to talk, but he’s having _none_ of it.

“BULL-FUCKING-SHIT!” He lets out a strangled laugh, something to cover up the cracking sound his heart is undoubtedly making.

He looks into Derek’s then Jackson’s eyes, before smiling wryly. “And tell me, _Derek_ , when did you know we were your mates?”

The pieces seem to finally click for Derek, who is now the one looking away. Jackson’s eyes lower to the ground.

“What? Can’t come up with another lie?” he repeats the Alpha’s word back at him.

Derek’s jaw tightens before he looks back at him, answering him lowly. “When I first saw you in the woods with Scott. With Jackson, at the school when Peter was chasing you all around.”

He nods tightly and asks “And when, do you let Jackson know his was your mate?”

Derek swallows uneasily, lowers his eyes, “The night he came to my house after Lydia brought him back from the control of the Kanima, when his wolf was finally stable.”

So months ago. _Months_. His nerves are on the edge of a panic attack, feeling like this is just unbelievable.

“Oh right, because he’s perfect little Jackson Whittemore who gets everything he ever wanted! The money, the popularity, the girl, the bite, and now the guy! All you have to do is snap your fingers and wish away! And now, let’s decide to ask me to join this fun little _bond_ for whatever purpose you both see fit, because he wants it. And Jackson always gets what he wants. _”_

Jackson looks angry, but doesn’t try refute his words, while Derek’s eyes avert to stare off to the side, knowing full well nothing is false in his statements.

But the thing that’s really hurting him about all this is that he’s researched everything having to do with werewolves, long enough to exactly what being mates entails and how to officially complete the bond. He feels his breathing starts to falter, but he pushes on to know one last thing, the most important thing.

“And did you both complete the ritual?” The mating ritual that connects the bonded beings physically and emotionally, sealed with a final bite in the height of ecstasy.

Both of them look up shocked and guilty, but that’s enough for him to feel a deep hit in his gut.

He turns and heads to the front door, before a hand grips his free arm to stop him. “Stiles, you don’t underst-”Derek pleads out, all anger diminished from his voice.

He shakes off the hand, grinding out, “go fuck yourselves” before continuing his mission to get out the front door without crumbling into pieces.

"You lied too Stiles,” Jackson says as a last resort, sounding close to whining.

“Guess we’re even then,” he says lowly, never once stopping to look back as he walks straight out the front door.

“Stiles!” they call out, trying to follow close at his heels, but he uses every bit of power he can muster from his spark to slam the front door in their faces, creating a brick wall force in front of it and in front of the windows of the house.

The trapped werewolves pound at the spell-enforced door as his feet hobble down the porch steps, taking him straight towards his jeep. He ignores the pack watching him probably concerned from the side of the house near the trees. He doesn’t want to be near anyone right now, not feeling like he can trust anyone.

He hears footsteps running up to him as Scott says, “Stiles…”

He turns around and face his best friend who stops in his track at his facial expression. “Did you know?”

“Know about?” Scott asks confused, but looking like he’s playing the innocent card. He heard what they talked about, all of them did, so he wants to see just who was lying this whole time.

“Did you _know_?” he grits out, his fist curling in to dig his fingers in his palm. To feel any pain but the one in his soul.

 Scott stills a second before bowing his head guilty. He nods and squares his jaw, reaching with his free hand to snatch the keys from Scott’s hand and turn to head to his jeep.

“Stiles you can’t drive, just let someone else do it” Scott argues.

“I’ve been doing things alone for a while and I certainly don’t need anyone now,” he snaps back, knowing full well everyone, werewolf or not, can hear him. Some of the pack whine at his words, obviously being able to feel the hurt he is feeling.  _Good._

Those words are enough make Scott stop where he is. He ignores everyone and everything, hopping in his jeep and starting up his car. It’s tough one handed but he manages, just like every other life struggle.

He hits the gas, flooring it away from the Hale house and back home. He knows his spell will wear off once he’s a good distance away but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters right now. Because all he feels, with each minute he drives, is this excruciating pain that no medicine or incantation can take away.

Driving is hard enough with one hand, but add in the tears blurring his vision just makes it that much difficult.

He luckily pulls up safely in his driveway after ten minutes, turning the car off as he tries to breath in and out. He reaches over to the dash compartment and opens it up, pulling out a bag of mountain ash Deaton had given him a while back. He gets out of the car and slowly walks up to his front door, focusing his power and throwing out the open bag of mountain ash, which forms a circle around his whole house, just like he’s practiced. Guess he can thank Deaton for always pushing him to practice over and over. He sniffs and turns to his front door, unlocking it and going inside.

He locks it behind him and leans his forehead against the wooden door, trying to catch his breath and failing. His feels his chin wobbling as he turns to lean back, slowly sliding down to the ground. Two tears fall down his face as he hears footsteps coming from the kitchen.

“Stiles?” his dad asks, making him look up to meet his father’s worried eyes.

“You were wrong dad. Because I feel…upset, but not relieved now that I know.” His dad probably doesn’t understand what he’s trying to say, but it doesn’t matter, because he needs to let this out. He swallows difficulty as his dad takes a seat beside him on the floor.

“How do you feel?” his dad asks quietly.

“I…feel…” he painfully shudders “…horrid. Really empty and horrid,” he chokes on the words before letting out a sob. His dad doesn’t say anything but wraps his arm around him, just as if he was nine years old again, pulling him in close to let him cry messily into his shoulder.


	6. deformantes vestrae cogitationes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> deformantes vestrae cogitationes~ distort your thoughts
> 
>  
> 
> I AM SO SORRRYYY for the delay on this chapter. Been traveling a bit and haven't found time (or sometimes motivation) to sit down and write and then when I did, this semester has been so hectic and its absolutely crazy and barely have time to sit and rest! I had like half the chapter done, left it sitting there for months and finally finished it! And its long so sorry but important scenes i had to write in here! Funny enough, its like waiting or being halted from writing came the best ideas these recent weeks! Ha its just crazy and funny! Oh how stories can go man! 
> 
> Also wanted to let you know that I added an Underage tag on this story, because as you will recall Stiles said that eh just started his junior year, which puts him at the age of 17. But, Jackson actually was born in early summer, making him 18. Hopefully that helpful to clear up any confusion, and to hint at future tension ;)
> 
> And!!! SUPRISE! THEY GO TO DA CLUB IN THIS CHAPTER! And let's just get a sneak preview at the guy stiles is talking about shall we ?^_^ (p.s. no pictures of douglass booth with glasses that i like so sorry about that but these pictures do capture his smile and the nervous scratching the head tick i was going for!)
> 
> http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/7a/19/0c/7a190cd08a4e5cdd8576b137763714e1.jpg
> 
> http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/e7/c6/be/e7c6be844722024ea20c4b7aa1ae925d.jpg
> 
> Just can't wait for y'all to read! But let's just say that its not the only surprise in this chapter! haha
> 
> Again, I am so so sorry it took so long to get this out, AND THAT THIS CHAPTER IS SO FREAKING LONG!!! Plus DRAMA AND BLUSHING EEK MOMENTS AND TIMES I WANT TO CRY MY EYES OUT CAUSE IT HURTS
> 
> also please read ends notes for more information that I'll talk about after you read the chapter. Just insights and thoughts if you want to know what I was thinking for some stuff. (like a behind the scenes lol)
> 
> ALSO!!!! Credit goes to mizixy for the idea of Stiles showing some his scars and bruises to Derek and Jackson during their argument. Brilliant Idea that I just couldn't resist incorporating to show these two werewolves how much they've hurt Stiles physically and emotionally.
> 
>  
> 
> Well here's the next chapter and I hope you all enjoy! :)

 

“Ok, I've got written down a jar of moss and fertile dirt, charcoal, a few bundles of wood, a lighter, two bottles of spring water, and a portable fan. Why does this sound like we're going on a camping trip and maybe singing kumbaya instead of preforming a spell against a demon?”

His father’s voice carries upstairs from the living room where he’s on the phone with Dr. Harobaldi. They've been discussing patterns of the attacks and items needs for different spells to try for the past 45 minutes.

As his dad continues talking on the phone, his eyes read over the web text on his laptop, ancient Latin scripts describing myths of monsters and supernatural things. He’s been productive and focused this morning for the past two hours with his dad, but now he’s ending up reading the same sentence over and over as his mind drifts off to a more grim place.

He sighs and sits back in his desk chair, free hand running over his hair as his lips pull slack downward. This whole supernatural thing and his complicated love life are draining him, and funny since he isn’t even a part of the latter! But still, it’s not easy dealing with feeling of inner pain shooting through the center of his chest.

_‘Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for-‘_

OH MY GOD! NO!!! NO!! Just…NO!!!!

He sits up and shakes his head because did he really just quote Twilight??!!!! What the actual fuck?! Damn he must really be hurting if he's quoting teen-age heartbreak sonnets like Bella freaking Swan.

Well, at least he hasn’t lost his sense of humor in all this mess.

But c’mon, he’s not some depressed single-parented teen that is mourning over some supernatural creatures who run away from relationship problems to wherever to be self-absorbent, grumpy assholes.

_Huh,_ that actually doesn’t sound too far from his life.

He lets out a defeated chuckle, letting his free hand swipe across his face while he readjusts his casted arm in the sling. He picks up a pen and taps it against his notebook willed with Latin translations and Greek mythology inscriptions. They’re close to getting the answer they're looking for, finding out who this demon is and how to defeat him. Deaton's emissary colleagues have been helpful sending emails attached with ancient texts and spells, which he's been practicing and practically has his whole room, living room, and kitchen safety proofed. But somehow his thoughts never fail to wonder back to the Hale house happening a few nights ago.

Derek and Jackson, who have been touching and showing more lovingly affection to each other than he’s ever experienced, are his mates. Two mates he didn’t even know he had, because they didn’t let him in on those wandering touches, on those lip-tingling kisses, on the reality that now seems almost unbearable to deal with.

**_"They don't actually want you."_ **

He breathes in slowly, exhaling shakily. No matter how much he scrubbed his face in the shower after crying that night, he can still feel the ghost of tears below his eyes, the feeling of wet drops hanging from his lashes. It's a haunting shadow that won't go away, the same heavy weight that settles in his chest and makes it hard to breathe sometimes.

There's plenty reasons for the cause of his heartache, but his mind can only really revert back to the simple fact that Derek had recognized him _first_ as one of his mates, which apparently happened over a year ago, and seemed to only reward him with slamming his back multiple times into walls, knocking his head into his jeep wheel, and threatening his life repeatedly. But Jackson, who has had everything in his life handed to him on a silver platter, was recognized _second_ by Derek as another mate and told within a few weeks. And you know what the blond jock got?

Unconditional love.

**_'Cause all Derek cares about is Jackson.'_ **

He shakes his head and thinks about his "mates", both who have known and hidden it from him for months, and wonder the same question over and over.

_'Am I not good enough?'_

Getting up and walking over to his closet where a long view mirror hangs on the door, his eyes rake up and down his body then run over his mole speckled face. He knows that he’s not buff, more resembles a string bean in comparison to other people. Sure, he’s giftedly smart, but somehow can’t seem to work out how to solve the problem of his constant chatter mouth syndrome. He’s not cute, at least what he can infer because beautiful girls like Lydia don’t seek him out and guys, while Danny hasn’t really given him a definite answer about the gay community attraction towards him, he’s just gonna assume guys have the same opinion as the girls.

He’s annoying, hyperactive, meddlesome, reckless, impulsive, tends to act-now-think-later, scrawny, invisible, weird, geeky, and just…

He knows all of this. He doesn’t need anyone to come into his life and point the facts out to him, because he can look back on his entire 17 years of life and know he’s always been this way. He’s the sidekick, the one that never gets the girl (or in this case guys) and always helps the superhero save the day. No one ever commemorates the sidekick; no one showers him in love and praise or carves statues in his honor. He’s Robin, in his social circle of friends and pack; in the supernatural world of werewolves, Kanimas, hunters, and entities; in lacrosse as he occasionally warms the bench; and now apparently in his own love life.

Some days, he thinks even Robin contemplated turning in his mask and letting the world forget him; everyone only seemed to remember Batman anyways.

He carefully lifts up the side of his graphic t-shirt to see small scabbed-over scratches on his ribs from where Jackson's claws had held him in the locker room. It makes him feel worse in grief already because its just another thing that will leave an ugly mark on his body that probably won't fade. He's also seen the bruise on his upper back yesterday in the bathroom mirror, a deep purple-hued mark from being pushed into the locker doors. Just like other bruises from Derek of being slammed into walls. He grits his teeth in anger as he pulls his shirt back down. They "care about and love" him.

_What bullshit._

**_"Making you their own punching bag?"_ **

Sure, maybe he's never been in love or let alone kissed someone, but he knows that's not love. You don't hurt the people you love. His dad taught him enough growing up that when he was old enough to date, that someone abusing him physically or emotionally was never ok.

He can feel an angry fire form in his chest and begin to spread through his veins thinking of also how he's been lied to, by Derek, Jackson, the pack and lead to feel like he can't trust anyone. His own pack that he was training to be emissary for, now seems as unfamiliar as a new threat. Distance from them is the only thing that is able to keep his panic attacks at bay.The mountain ash circle has done wonders keeping the pack away from his house, especially yesterday when he decided to skip school and just stay home to wallow in his aching misery. The humans of the group, Allison and Lydia luckily took the circle as a warning to stay away from him too. He's ignored all their calls, texts, and whines heard from the woods in the distance.

_Who can he trust? Who can he trust not to hurt him anymore than he already is?_

A knock on his door rips him away from his thoughts as he turns to see his dad looking at him. 

"Hey kiddo. You've got a visitor at the door," his dad hooks a thumb over his shoulder.

He nods then heads down stairs followed by his dad, whose hand squeezes his shoulder gently behind him before his dad heads back into the kitchen to where they've set up all the research they've been combing through these past hours. He takes a breath before heading to the front door, opening it and seeing Lydia standing there and looking at him anxiously.

_**'She's come to cut you down again.'** _

"Can I come in?" she asks in a hesitant voice he's never even imagined she could possess. Can he trust her? Does he even want to listen to whatever she has to say? But then he remembers that she's the one that brought Jackson back only to have it not work out between them, and maybe something about that thought makes him feel almost like they're in the same boat. So after a moment of hesitation, he nods silently, opening the door wider to let her pass by him.

His dad glances up from the dining table at the sound of him closing the front door, before going back to reading more Greek texts. He motions Lydia to follow him up stairs to his room to talk more privately. 

Once upstairs, he sits on his bed as Lydia closes the door quietly, turning to face him and look as if she's trying to grasp what to say.

"I'm sorry," she says as her beautiful eyes look at him, gaze lingering on his casted arm. "I wish I had given you a chance."

**_'Lie.'_ **

He frowns, because that's like the last thing he imagined she would be sorry for.

"I was caught up in living the ideal dream that I thought high school was supposed to be. The ideals put in my head by all the movies and books. I was too obsessed with being the it-girl who had it all, right down to the popular jock boyfriend, to notice people like you saw more than I could even see in myself."

She steps slowly forward to him, taking a seat gently next to him on the bed.

"I fell in love with idea of Jackson, just like I feel in love with the idea of supremacy. And only when he turned into a Kanima did I realize that I loved him in a way, and I would be upset if he did die. And although it did help bring him back, it wasn't enough."

_**"Aww Princess didn't get what she wanted?"** _

He licks his lips before saying, "I don't understand."

She smiles sadly at him. "After that night, he thanked me and told me that he cared for me, loved me, but he wasn't _in_ love me just like I wasn't in love with the actual him. And he was right, because truthfully all we did was fight most of the time and pretend to be what everyone else expected us to be. And so I let him go, and when he left I realized something. I realized that maybe if I had actually saw beyond the popular images I fell in love with, I could've seen that you right there all along, just waiting to be fallen in love with. Someone who had become a friend to me first and foremost, saving me and caring about me. Pushing me to show off my intelligence, to not be afraid of being the real me." Her gaze falls down to her hands. "But then I noticed how you sometimes looked Derek, how he would you look at you when you weren't looking. And then I realized that it was too late."

He looks at her, feeling loss for her that he can't really explain. She huffs out a humorless breath, shaking her head. "For being the girl who can see death coming in advance, I was too blind in arrogance or maybe ignorance to foresee the death of the chance with you."

He wants to argue that it doesn't matter anymore, that the last thing he wants right now is to jump into a boat with Jackson and Derek and sail off into the sunset, but his words die out as she grabs his hand and looks into his eyes again.

"I didn't know," her troubled eyes imploring into his, her voice coming off low in almost a whisper. "I didn't know that they were mates. That they were _your_ mates. I thought this summer that Derek was finally going to put a move on you, my mind thought it was the most obvious thing in the world. I think even some of the others thought he would too. I just didn't realize that they had already started this thing without you, months ago. I would ripped Derek to shreds if I knew he was going about it this way."

**_"Liar, Liar, designer pants on fire."_ **

Despite the doubts he has, her voice speaks vehemently and truthfully, never raising louder as to keep her eyes from tearing up. He can feel his own eyes start to sting as he sniffs and looks away to try and blink away the moisture from his eyes. Damn them for making him want to cry like he's 9 years old again when he lost one parent; they don't fucking deserve it! He feels her hand squeeze his tightly as she leans into him.

"We're shit. Me, Jackson, Derek. Absolute shit, to have had someone like you care about us, love us and then think that you're just gonna be there after we've stepped all over you. I'm sorry Stiles, I....I'm so so sorry."

He turns as she her voice chokes, a tear falling down her porcelain face as her face morphs into pain. All anger he could've had at her dissipates at the sincerity of her tearful words. Lydia Martin does not cry unless it's terribly important. So he lets go of her hand to pull her into his chest, free arm wrapping around her shoulders as her arms wrap around his waist. She doesn't sob loudly, doesn't even make a sound except for a quiet sniffle. The only reason he can tell she's crying is by the wet patch he feels on his shirt, soaking through into his skin. 

"Lyds, I was just as much in love with the idea of you as you were with the idea of what high school was supposed to be. It's only when we found out that reality is more supernatural and less teen cliches that I realized that I didn't know you as I thought I did. I only fell in love with what I saw and a little of what I thought I knew about you, but I'm glad that we moved past appearances and assumptions, because we learned more about each other; I'm  _glad_ that I've become your friend. Because now I now the real you, and that's something I will always value and cherish."

Her arms only squeeze tighter around him in response.

He rests his cheek on top of her hair, letting the silence of the room surround them before he says, "And I'm sorry too."

She pulls back to frown at him in confusion as he brings up a hand to wipe her tears away. "I just don't think I could really try anything with my heart feeling like it's in pieces."

She smiles sadly and nods, closing her eyes as she brings her hand up to hold his on her cheek. She leans into it before opening her eyes to look at him. "I know Stiles, and I'm glad that I have a friend like you in my life." Though Lydia may be blunt or sometimes even cold, her words hold a warmth in them as she squeezes his hands as he returns the squeeze back.

She looks at his walls thoughtfully. "You know, when I was dating Jackson, I think part of me knew he was always interested in someone else, someone he might have been to afraid to say anything too. That's why it was so easy to let him go, because he finally found the courage he needed to admit to himself that he loved this person; even if he did a wrong way of showing it finally."

He frowns silently, not really understanding if she's talking about Derek or himself, but he doesn't really want to face the truth behind everything yet; so he looks at her biting her lip before saying, "I think after these months of being on my own, there is someone else that I think I can finally admit to myself that I do like. Admit to others in time too," her words come out slowly as if revealing a big secret.

He nudges her with a smile, promoting the corner of her lips to quirk up before answering, "It's Allison."

**_'Wow. So quick to move on it seems.'_ **

His eyes widen a fraction as Lydia starts to explain.

"She's my best friend. She just gets me. She's never seen me as weak, and I never with her. And it's different, almost plausible. She and Scott actually broke up a few days ago, when they went home together after the pack bonding, because she told me later that they realized they were better off friends then lovers. She realized they started off as a typical high school lovey dovey relationship, but we've gotten older and things have changed, just as things between her and Scott have become different. Though I haven't said anything about how I feel about her because I didn't want it to be the reason there was problems between our friendship or the pack, but after everything these past months, knowing that keeping secrets hurts more than it helps and that waiting can lead to being too late, I think I'll say something...sooner rather than later."

He takes the information, processing it slowly as he nods. "I'm sure she would lucky to have a goddess like you in her life."

Lydia smiles, face secretly keening at the compliment before it falls into a more serious expression as she looks at his arm.

" _Stiles_ " she stresses his name on the edge of desperate. "What is happening to you?"

_**'Like she even cares.'** _

He ignores the voice of his head as he sits up straighter before standing and walking over to his closet. "Well, short story is that there's a thousand year old demon haunting me that wants to kill me and eat my spark."

He face turns pale and concerned. "What can we do? There's gotta be something right? A spell? Deaton?"

"I don't know," he says with the exasperation he's been carrying for days. "Nothing really we can do except to keep researching and getting all the information on it we can like my dad and I have been. And I just keep practicing my magic as Deaton's told me to. Tomorrow, hopefully I'll find out more when I go see him again."

She nods but looks helpless at that, almost appearing like a little girl scared of the world. She looks just as lost as he is as she surveys his room, messy and unkempt.

"I think we need to get you out," she says, her face holding a knowing look that she sees he's been trapped in this house for too many hours.

His eyes widen in surprise as he plays the idea over in his head. It'd be nice to not be trapped with books laying out an uncertain future and memories of two assholes that broke his heart.  He nods his head before asking, "Where?"

She ponders for a moment, trying to come up with something that will no doubt take his mind off of all this sadness and anxiousness pent up inside him. He sees the moment the idea hits her before she smiles at him.

"The Jungle."

He can't help it as he full at grins at that. The last time was a disaster but he did meet some lovely drag queen friends. It's be nice to have fun for one night.

"Yeah, that sounds great."

She smiles as she asks, "And bring the others along?" 

_**'The Others?! They all lie to you. Purposefully try to hurt you! Don't invite them!'** _

His face falls instantly as he shakes his head and he avoids her eyes. He's not ready to let anyone else in, too many uncertainties with the pack, even Scott who apparently knew about his mates. Lydia seems to understand him instantly, saying with a determined nod, "Then I'll call Danny and the three of us are gonna have a great time. No more crying and no more moping over idiot little boys."

He snickers and nods his head, heading towards his door to go downstairs. "I'm just gonna tell my dad."

She nods and stands, pulling out her phone and dialing a number. "Hey danny, whatever you've got planned tonight, cancel it."

Her voice fades as he goes down the stairs turning to see his dad drinking coffee and gazing at the a printout of greek mythology essays.

"Hey dad," his dad turns in surprise to look at him. "If it's ok, I was gonna go out tonight, just to...clear my head a bit."

His dad looks at his arm, but nods his head. "Yeah, you could use a break kiddo. But, be safe though. If anything happens or you feel the tingling sensation, you get out of there fast and come straight home. Got it?"

He nods vehemently as his dad stands, clapping a hand on his uninjured shoulder. "Try have fun, and be home by midnight please. Just for your safety and my assurance so I don't have a heart attack. " 

He nods, knowing his father wants him not to end up in his room crying and thinking over everything. He hugs his dad then heads back up to his room where Lydia is off the phone and digging through his closet.

"Danny said he'll meet us there at 9. Which gives us plenty of time to make you look amazing."

She looks at his outfit up and down with a look of disdain. He smiles but nods, allowing her to work her magic on him. She pulls out a button up shirt he has, walking over to him to hold up in front of him. She seems pleased with the idea, nodding her head.

"I'm gonna make the whole club want you. Just you wait."

 

-/-

 

His eyes take in the crowded club as he fiddles with his the end of his t-shirt. Lydia went all out for tonight, the drag queens complemented him earlier on his appearance when he arrived, but he's now he's on his own and nervous. Lydia went off to the bar to flirt with the apparently straight bartender for a free drink, and Danny is dancing with a guy he met within the first twenty seconds they arrived here. They are both so natural at this, while he's... _not_.

_**'They only came for themselves.'**_  

He shakes off his doubts. "Just relax Stiles," he pep-talks himself. "You can do this. No stupid ass people or demons are controlling what you do. You decide. Tonight is about having fun and forgetting."

He breaths out and nods his head to the beat as he surveys the club. It's busy, men, women, trans women alike grinding upon one another or flirting near the bar. He even thinks he spots Deputy Parrish flirting with someone, but he doesn't want to delve into his dad's co-workers lives, so he continues to let his eyes roam over the crowds. It's definitely popping on this Saturday night, so props to Danny for getting them in somehow.

"Hi" a warm masculine voice breaks him out of his thoughts, causing him to turn his head and... _oh man._

Standing near him is the owner of dreamy voice, and this guy is like a slimmer version of Clark Kent. Twenty-three year old with black hair tousled as if he's just rolled out of photoshoot spread that involves a bed and twisted sheets. Kent even has the glasses that seem to enhance his demure green eyes that gaze admiringly at him. This male mode is actually interested.. _in him_?! Ok. Ok! He can do this! No problemo. He just needs to start his part of the introductions to this beautiful creature with poise and perfect fucking allure. 

"Um, uh...hi?"

_Smooth Stiles, so smooth_. 

The guy smiles amusedly, revealing... _god_ , a set of dimples framing his perfect dazzling set of teeth. Seriously! Does this guy do Colgate commercials too?! 

"I'm Eric" the guy steps closer so that they can hear one another as the music grows a bit louder in the background.

"Stiles!" he shouts back over the bass.

"It's nice to meet you Stiles. So... do you need a hand?" The guy chuckles as the corner of his mouth quirks up a bit as his blue eyes rake over his casted arm the rests in the sling. Clark Ke-Eric brings a hand to scratch behind his head, the gesture immolating in a sheepish, oh-god-am-i-flirting-right type of way.

Well dang, this guy is handsome and apparently dorkily modest. If he was a girl, he would swoon. But he's not! So he does the manly thing and _internally_ swoons. 

"Yeah, uh..." flirt Stiles, c'mon! Just have fun! "I need...help! You know, getting to the dance floor. Probably, even need someone to make sure I don't fall in the crowd." Yes! Work that Stilinski charm! He knows he's horribly at dancing, but hey! Gotta just wing it.

Eric smiles softly at him, eyes lighting up as he steps closer, holding out his hand. "Well, I can volunteer. I mean, we wouldn't you to fall of course."

_**'How could this Adonis be interested in you?'** _

"Of course we wouldn't" a voice snaps their attention to the left.

_Peter._

What the heck is he doing here? Stiles feels annoyed as the older Hale smirks at him and Eric like he has undoubtedly been listening to their conversation and is amused at their shy, awkward flirting. And Eric...poor, sweet, perfect Eric looks confused and a little intimidated by Peter, which if he knew Peter's murderous history, that fear would be very well founded. Peter looks the guy up and down and smirks cockily, before turning to look at him.

"Am I am interrupting something boys?"

Eric opens his mouth to answer, but he cuts him off. " _Yesss"_ he hisses out at Peter. He starts to walk over and try to grab Eric's still-outstretched hand. "You are. Me and Eric were about to go dance. So if you will excus-"

Only in a flash, Peter grabs his hand and pulls him into his side. 

"Now, now honey. There's no need to try and make me jealous tonight," Peter purrs sensually and loudly enough for Eric to hear.

"Jealous?! I'm not-we're not-" he tries to sputter out disbelieving and frazzeled, at a very confused Eric. 

Peter tightens his grip on his hand to the point of pain, making him cringe slightly. "Don't listen to him. He's young and well, you know how it was at their age. He just loves to play these games every time we go out."

Eric's eyes widen, looking at him as he asks, "Young?"

Peter nods in fake sympathy. "Still high school," turning to look at him," but with that pretty mouth of is, he could fool anyone."

He feels his mouth gape as he looks at Peter's fake adoring smile and then turns his head to see Eric's eyes basically the size of dinner plates. "But if he's in high school, you're like-"

Peter wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him into his side as close as possible with a shit eating grin. "What can I say? I like them young."

Stiles chokes as Eric looks at them in both shock and horror, before nodding quickly and scampering off towards the bar. 

"Hey wait!" he tries to go after Eric, but Peter holds his waist tight. "Peter!, god-" he tries to squirm out, but the older man instead keeps iron-like grip around his waist and drags him towards the crowded dance floor. He spots Lydia looking at him from the bar, eyes torn between worry, anger, and concern as she mouths 'what are you doing?' He just shrugs helplessly while Peter waves with a good-naturedly smile back at her as she scrambles for something in her bag. 

He looses sight of her as he's dragged through the crowd, Peter jostling them into a small open space in the middle of the crowd and finally letting him go. He stumbles a bit, then turns around throws some annoyed hits at the wolf's shoulder with his free hand.

"You jerk!" he yells over the base at the older man.

Peter seems to be amused by his fit and allows him two hits, before catches his wrist and pulls him closer so that their chest to chest.

"Now Stiles," he says like a parent explaining something to their child. "Didn't your father ever teach you to play nice?"

**_'F_** ** _ather wasn't around much to teach him anything. Too busy being the Sheriff and saving the town._ ** _'_

He grits his teeth together before trying to yank his arm hand free with no such luck. "Of course he did Peter," he grits out the older Hale's name. "But he also said to yell if strangers tried to bad touch me or kidnap me."

Peter grins before wrapping his free arm around his lower back and locking him in place. The couples dancing and grinding near them by no heed to their argument. "Little one, we both know he doesn't know possibly anything about the supernatural stuff you're involved in. And while I always believe in experimenting while you're young, that man doesn't know how to truly please someone nor handle anything bigger than reading love sonnets and posing in front of a camera."

He pushes against Peter's chest until the guy releases him. "Wow, smell that all on him, did ya Peter?" He walks around Peter to try and leave through the cluster of people again. "I'm gonna go try and learn for myself what he can do."

Suddenly a hand grabs his wrist and pulls his back into a firm chest, another hand slithering around his middle and resting on his hip.

Peter leans his head close to his hear, making sure his words are heard. "I know you're mad at them," the other's voice no longer joking, but dead serious, making him tense slightly, knowing exactly _whom_ Peter is talking about, "...and you have every right to be. But if you're going to try and have some well-deserved fun to forget them, you should pick someone who knows what they're doing."

**_'He can make you feel good.'_ **

His mind freezs at his thoughts and the implication of Peter's words, only snapping out of it when he swiftly feels Peter start to sway their bodies slightly as puff warm breath hits the back of his neck, making goosebumps shiver onto his skin. He swallows as the older Hale lets go of his wrist and drag his other hand down to rest on his hip. They sway slowly to the music pulse thrumming from the speakers as he gradually releases the tension he feels. A scratch of stubble on the side of his neck makes him inhale as his eyes flutter closed at their own accord.

Peter...well he may not be someone Stiles ultimately wants to be with, but right now, the older man does makes him suddenly feel a little less like he's carrying around a broken heart and a bag full of trust issues.

A shiver travels up his spine when he feels one of the man's fingers slip under his shirt and rub a calloused thumb over the skin of his hip bone. He breathes unevenly when he feels Peter mouthing at the back of his neck, before leaning his head closer to let the sharp points of his teeth scrap lightly along his neck. He shivers at the feeling.

Peter's crotch bumps the back of his ass, making that hand that's not in a sling immediately latch onto one of Peter's hands, resting on his hips, for stability. They're grinding. Ass to crotch, dirt-sex-song grinding. Ok, wow. Him and Peter are... _god_.

The slow grind of their hips is makes his brain fuzzy, melting it into oblivion as an air of lustful desire suddenly feels like its surrounding the two of them. No one has ever touched him like this before, excluding himself cause hey he's a teenage boy! But this is his first dance of lustful rolls of of hips into someone else's. Their bodies move like the other couples that surround them, rhythmic dances of nirvana contained within in the walls of this club.

Peter, being a bit taller than him, reels him closer back by the hips and runs his mouth down the side of his face, from temple to chin as they both breathe heavily and deeply. He turns his head a fraction towards the Peter and pulls his face back to look into his blue eyes as they stare into his, glow brighter in color. He's never been kissed, never felt the press of someone's lips against his own, which is truly a sad tragedy for being a 17 year old high schooler. But as his eyes fall down to Peter's mouth and then quickly flick up to the wolf's eyes, Peter watching him with rapt attention as he bites his bottom lip out of habit, he thinks that there might not be such a tragedy for much longer. He shouldn't be interested, hell, he should probably be creeped out to be in this position right now, yet curiosity makes him want to feel what its like to be kissed, what it's like to have someone want him uncontrollably.

They're watching each other for a moment, forgetting all the background noise and movements around them, just breathing warm puffs of air onto one another's mouth, before Peter meets his eyes one last time and leans down just as he feels his chin lift up.

But then so suddenly, he's roughly jostled to the side as he turns to see Peter being held by the front of his shirt by a furious looking Derek.

_What is he doing here?!_

Peter smirks cockily at his nephew before Derek growls lowly and pushes him roughly. The older werewolf catches and rights himself before he can crash into someone, looking at Derek with a clear challenge.

_Oh shit._  

He's suddenly worried about a fight breaking out on the dance floor, and he doesn't mean a dance battle for street cred! A battle of pissed off werewolf+ loving-to-piss-others-off werewolf=REALLY FREAKIN BAD. He steps forward to stop this before it gets out of hand, only to have a hand grab his arm and pull him back into someone's chest. People really need to stop doing that! He tries to fight off the hold, but the person tightens their grip and wraps another arm around his chest, a voice growling angrily out," Stop it Stiles."

_Jackson. Fucking great._

**_'Controlling little shit.'_ **

He sees Isaac, Erica, and Boyd stand near the edge of the gathered crowd that is now starting to encircle them, the betas' eyes set determinedly on Peter. The music is still blasting through the club's speakers as Scott sets out of the crowd and up behind Derek, second-in-command ready to fight alongside his Alpha.  

Derek steps into Peter's space, rough voice spitting out, "You don't touch him, Peter." He glares darkly at his uncle as he bites out, " _Ever_."

Peter sneers and steps toe to toe with Derek, looking right into the Alpha's eyes. "I don't think you have any _claim_ over him, Derek. _"_  

Jackson growls in his ear as the blond betas hands tighten around him possessively. Derek snaps out, "He's ours!"

_**'Ooo, someone doesn't like anyone touching his toy apparently. Seems like you're**_ _**just an object to be used by them!'** _

He's suddenly hit with what this is about, a pissing contest He's just a possession to Derek and Jackson, who have ignored him and left him feeling insecure and alone, and now they seem to think they can control him, to tell him what he can and can't do. He so furious and still so deeply hurt, and he just wants out of here _now!_

"I'm no ones!" he yells out angrily as everyone's head whips to look at him, eyes slightly startled as if they've forgotten he can speak for himself. Which he can, thank you very much! 

He struggles against his captures hold before he pulls himself roughly out of Jackson's grasp, anger painting on his face as he snaps at the jock, "Stay away from me!"

Deputy Parrish, in off-duty attire miraculously pops up in the opening of the crowd, looking at him and then glancing at the others as the music continues to pulse in the club. 

"Everything ok here?" Jordan asks, eyes glancing at him for assurance and concern at his cast, before turning and narrowing them suspiciously at Derek, Jackson, and Peter.

"Yeah Deputy. I was actually just leaving actually," he walks past the pack to head into the crowd, ignoring Scott's puppy dog eyes and dodging Derek's outstretched hand before halting in his steps. 'Screw everything!' he thinks. 'If someone gets to decide who are his firsts and what he gets to do, it's him!'

He turns and strides past an ever-watchful Derek and over to Peter, wraping his free hand around the other's neck and pulls the older man's head down to crash their lips together. It's a brief touch of a rough, chapped lips against his moist, bitten ones that slows everything down to the second. And in that frozen moment, he can suddenly feel everything.

He can feel his first kiss leave his lips with no tingling sparks like fireworks exploding in the sky they tell you about in romance stories. Instead, he feels his first kiss charr his lips from the angry hurt he radiates inside, until it cools down from the waves of numbness the kiss leaves behind simultaneously. He can feel the burn, like the lick of a flame, left from Peter's facial on the skin around his mouth. He can feel the twitch of fingers on his hip, connected to a hand that the older man must have put there to steady himself against his rash move. He can feel the eyes watching them beginning to process and widen at the sight as the slow second passes. He feels one pulse of the music beat and reverberate in his chest before he pulls back and everything speeds back up to normal.

Stiles takes a moment to gaze at Peter's unhindered look of surprise and slight bewilderment as the man breathes in, before he turns and makes his way into the sea of the crowd, ignoring the drowned out calls of his name and the indistinguishable, enraged yelling.

He jostles his way out of the crowded dance floor as the bouncers rush pass him to the diffuse the mess on the dance floor. He eventually makes it out of there and runs into Danny with his date, looking at him worriedly. "Stiles are you ok? What's wrong?"

He doesn't realize he's shaking between the want to yell in anger or to curl up and cry, but he just shakes his head. "It's nothing. I'm gonna head home." He claps Danny on the arm. "But thanks Danny for coming out tonight anyways."

Danny just looks at him lost as he passes him, eyes suddenly spotting Lydia and Allison standing near each other by the bar, talking fast as their eyes watch the packed dance floor as no doubt a fight is breaking out. Lydia looks over and him, face immediately sporting nothing other than something guilty.

**_'Guess we know who invited the dogs to come out to play. Little ice queen loves to create drama.'_ **

He clenches his fist as she heads straight over to him, Allison following closely behind her.  As Lydia nears to where he stands, her hand reaches out and touches his arm carefully. 

"Stiles," she shakes her head. "I know what you think, but I was worried. Peter..."

**_'Liar!'_ **

"I believed you," he gritted out at her, making her flinch back in surprise and guilt, "everything you said to me." He feels his throat closing up, because can't anyone just fucking let him breathe for once?! "Was this some kind of set up of yours? Do you not get why I didn't want them here? Do you even care?!"

Lydia's mouth gapes for the right words to say as Allison's own face was apologetic, the huntress' hand resting Lydia's back. "Stiles, we didn't mean to..." Allison tries to start but he just shook his head and walks out Lydia's grasp, walking straight for the exit.

_' **Can't trust anyone.'**_  

 

-/-

 

The streets are silent and empty by the time he pulls into his driveway. With relief, sees his dad's cruiser is still in the driveway, grateful he won't be alone tonight. Just as he gets out of the jeep, he hears the sound of an engine cut through the nighttime melody, bright head lights flashing against the house. He whips his head around to see with dread and anger its Derek's Camaro, his feet without needing command begin walking immediately to get inside. Only a few steps and they can't cross over the mountain ash.

"Stiles!" Derek yells as he gets out of the car.

"Stiles stop!" Jackson practically begs out, but he ignores it and heads towards the safety of his home and comfort of his father's arms.

Only suddenly he's pulled back and pushed a few feet towards closer to the street. He rights himself and sees Jackson and Derek standing a few feet in front of him, playing goalie in front of his house. Dammit werewolf powers!

"Listen," Derek eyes set on him, voice hard as steel. "We're gonna talk. No more running and no more hiding."

He looks around at the outside of his house, biting the inside of his cheek, determined to not to say a word.

Jackson growls out frustrated, "Stiles.."

He sets his jaw, just wishing them to disappear and leave him alone. He knows they're angry, heck anyone within a fifteen foot radius could see that, but so what he kissed Peter tonight! He honestly just doesn't care anymore, and doesn't want to listen to their shit.  All he wants to go inside his house and crawl into bed. Maybe never leave again.

Derek doesn't seem take to kindly to be ignored and growls lowly, taking a step towards him. He steps back hastily, making Derek halt in his steps as he eyes them. They look...well they best way to put it is that they look kind of like shit. Even in this dim light cast by the street lamps, no amount of werewolf healing nor model genes can stop them from looking like they haven't slept nor even haven't had an easy past few days.

Good! Maybe now they can feel a minuscule amount of what he's been feeling.

Jackson takes a step forward as he takes another step back. Both werewolves growl heatedly, but he puts his palm up at them.

" _Stop_."

They both obey, probably knowing full well he could do something. He may not be perfect at all this magic mumbo jumbo, but using his own anger and deep-seated hurt will definitely fuel his spark.

He puts his hand down and squares his shoulders. "Fine. You wanna talk? _Let's talk._ " He clenches his hands tightly. "No more hiding? That's rich coming from you two. When were you going to tell me I was one of your mates, huh Derek? When were you Jackson?" He looks at them as their eyes hold some guilt, but they look ready to argue back at him. "Or were you never going to tell me? Huh? Was that the plan and it got a little messed up when you found out I'm being hunted by a demon and accidentally let slip the big secret?"

"We were going to tell you," Jackson vehemently said, eyes drilling into his. "Just not yet."

"Right, and when were you guys going to tell me? A few days from now...few weeks...months..?"

"When you turned 18," Derek interrupted. "When you were old enough."

He lets out a false laugh. "Old enough? Really? Because I was 16 when we first met, you were gonna wait to tell me?! THATS BULLSHIT!" He's getting really pissed off now. He takes a step forward and points at Jackson. "You said you told Jackson the night after we freed him from being the Kanima. He was 17 at the time! Doesn't even turn 18 till the middle of July! But let me guess the reason why you told him first. It's because he's JACKSON FUCKING WHITTEMORE and he gets everything he wants in life!"

"Will you stop saying that! I don't!" Jackson shout back argumentatively.

_**"Lie!"** _

"Bullshit!" he shouts back. 

"It's also cause he's a werewolf!," Derek yells, taking a step forward. "He was just freed from the Kanima that night and would sense immediately who his mates were. There was no denying it to him if he'd ask me what he was feeling, everything both overwhelming and frightening, so I told him. But he was also just starting out as a beta. He needed to learn control of his senses and strengths. I could handle him during a full moon, I could help him cope when he was ready to tear everything in sight, piece by piece. If we let you in on this right when he started out or even before, he could have easily hurt you or felt possessive and tried to attack me. Me and Jackson needed to work this out before we brought in you."

"Great," he shrugs with a fake smile plastered on his face, slapping his hand on his leg with mock causality. "You guys are good! Don't need me then." He shakes his head and tries to walk past them, only for them to step forward and block his path.

"No, listen," Jackson says agitatedly. "Ok? We need you, we always needed you. We always wanted you."

He let out an cold, "Ha."

"It's true," Derek snaps. "But you have to realize you were too young."

And that makes him break all of his self-control.

"Too young?! Too fucking young?! Right! Because I'm too young to understand what love is. Too young to even experience it or even deserve it! But you know what I'm not too young to experience? Pain! Devastation! Loss! Sadness! Loneliness! Heartbreak! I wasn't too young to watch my mother wither away in her bed from cancer at the age of 9! I wasn't too young to have to watch as they buried in her the ground too damn early! I wasn't too young to see my dad fall apart those first few months, turning to whiskey just to get by everyday! I wasn't too young to see how my dad couldn't look at me clearly for 6 months because I have her eyes! I wasn't too young to get picked on since I was 5 by you Jackson" he points accusingly at the beta, whose eyes cloud with unhindered guilt, "..right up until last year and even then you were still an ungrateful jerk to me!"

He then points at Derek. "I wasn't too young to endure being slammed into walls and bruised up by you Derek, to have to endure your endless repressed anger being taken out on me!" Derek's eyes lower a fraction, as he sees the Alpha swallow thickly. Both of the anger held in their faces has been wiped clean, but he's not done.

"I wasn't too young to get left behind as my best friend got too caught up in a girl and the popularity that being a werewolf gave him to even give a damn shit about me! I wasn't too young to be called pathetic and useless by the pack last year because I'm human! I wasn't too young to see the disappointment in my dad's eyes every time I lied to him to protect all your ungrateful asses! I wasn't too young to get kidnapped by Gerard and beaten to shit while nobody seemed to even care! I wasn't too young to feel excruciating pain when I saw you guys were sneaking around together, making me not feeling good enough for either of you to like me! I wasn't too young to experience torment at the hands of this satanic entity that wants me dead! And I certainly wasn't too young to have you two fucking assholes and the rest of the pack decided to lie to me and rip my heart apart because you could!"

He chokes on the last word and immediately turns his back to them, taking a few steps away as he wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. Even after letting that all out, it hurts. It's still really, really fucking hurts. God, anytime he talks about his mom or everything he buries inside, its gonna make him want to cry. He can hear Jackson whine lowly further behind him, whether by his the scent of his distress or by his words, he really doesn't know or care.

He inhales shakily as he says lowly, "So don't tell me I'm too young, because that's just another lie I can't listen too."

"Stiles, I..we.." Derek says in a sad disbelieving voice, but doesn't seem able to add anything else. Good, because he's done talking.

He shakes his head and turns towards the house, walking around the frozen pair. He just wants to get inside his house and maybe never leave.

"Wait!" Derek yells and tugs him back and in a second pressed up against Jackson's chest near his jeep while looking straight into the Alpha's eyes. 

"Let go of me," he grits out lowly.

Derek, who has a grip on his free hand and another holding firmly on to his shoulder with, shakes his head. He squirms against his hold, but Jackson arms won't budge just as Derek's hands tighten.

"Just wait," Jackson says demandingly, then in a softer voice, "Don't go."

"Why shouldn't I? There's nothing left to talk about!"

"We messed up, ok? We...Fuck!" Derek grits out, shaking his head with an angry disbelief and guilt masking his features. "We did what we thought would be best and never thought about how you would feel. But we care about you Stiles. Care enough to stop you from making stupid mistakes with people like Peter. We care about you more than anything. Dammit, can't you see that?"

"Care about me?!" He squirms against their hold, cause now he wants to hit one of them. "Fuck you!" He somehow slips his casted arm out of the sling and uses his fingers to pull up his shirt. "Is this showing you care about me?!"

He can feel both werewolves freeze as they take in the old faded scars and the nearly scabbed skin around his ribs, where Jackson's claws left their marks. The sharp inhale behind him makes his fingers curl around the material of his shirt as he pulls it harshly back down.

"Yeah, of course you both care so damn much, so fucking possessive of me" he sarcastically spats. Then his voice grows quiet, as he looks away, his eyes growing wet. "Well don't worry. No one's gonna want me when they see the ugly marks you all left. So guess you both always get what you want, don't you?" 

Derek breathes in shakily as the hands gripping him clench. Jackson lays his head on the back of his neck, the beta's hand running lightly, and almost nervously over his now covered ribs.

"I didn't want...we didn't mean to.." Derek shakes his head, looking at him with solemn eyes.

His anger comes back in full force. "Stop fucking lying! You all weren't caring about me when you made these marks, nor decided to hide this all from the beginning. And I'm pretty sure you weren't think about how much you care me when you were mating and fucking each other! It's just all bullshit from you! Can't you stop lying for once?!"

Jackson shouts finally, "We aren't trying to hurt you!" just as Derek growls heatedly, "We aren't fucking lying to you and we-"

The sound of a shotgun cocking stops everyone, making his head snap to the side to see his Dad pointing the barrel right behind Derek's ear. How his dad made it over here without two werewolves noticing is beyond belief at the moment.

"You need to let go of my son Hale," his father says sternly and calmly. "And I won't say it again."

He can feel Derek's eyes slide from his father to him, but he won't meet the werewolf's gaze, instead continues to focus on his father's fingers clicking off the safety on the gun. It suddenly hits him that those bullets are most certainly packing wolfsbane.

After a tense moment, Derek cautiously and slowly loosen his grip around his wrist and shoulder, letting his fingers brush against his skin as they fall away. Derek takes steps away from him, his Dad's gun following the werewolf's every move.

"You too Jackson," his father says as his never turns his gaze away from Derek.

Jackson arms squeeze him as whispering pleadingly,  _"Stiles, please..."_

But he can't, he refuses to. He just can't say anything anymore. He can't even fucking breath. It just hurts to much. So he ignores the blond's pleads and pulls himself from the beta's embrace.

His dad's hand immediately shoots out and grabs him to maneuver him behind his protection. His body feels weak and tired, but relieved as he dad keeps his gun pointed at Derek and Jackson, who move to stand next to each other, their eyes somewhat watching his father, but continuously flicker over to him.

"Now you two need leave my property before I put arrest you both," his dad threatens, voice never once raising from its calm deadliness. "You also need to not bother my son anymore. You've hurt him enough and it ends right now. If we need you, we'll call you."

All of them know he won't, and after today his Dad certainly won't, but none of that matters right now, as his dad motions for him to go inside the house.

He touches his father's shoulder in appreciation and heads inside, passing the mountain ash line and into the safety of his home. He breathes for a moment, shaking off the tremors in his hand he didn't realize were there. He turns his head to see his father is no longer pointing the gun at them but saying something that obviously isn't making them happy, if he goes by their facial expressions. His dad then turns and comes inside the house, setting his his gun down near the staircase.

He sneaks a look back outside to see Derek and Jackson, who are still rooted to the same spot as they were before, faces though shadowed by the night, looking at him unwaveringly as if they want to race over and take him away. He doesn't know how to feel about that.

His dad walks around him and closes the door, cutting off the sight of them as the lock clicks. He's immediately pulled into his father's arms, being hugged closely and carefully as if he's made of glass.

"I'm sorry Stiles," his dad says, the sound of him swallowing slowly reaching his ears. "I'm so sorry."

He gets it now that his father no doubt heard everything he was yelling about. A weighted guilt crushes against his chest at the thought of his dad reliving the worst year of their lives and being reminded how hard it was for him to cope. He didn't mean to hurt the one person he loves more than anything.

"Sorry dad," he mumbles quietly as a stray tear makes his way down his cheek, one he can't bother trying to wipe away.

"No," his dad shakes his and wraps his arms a little tighter around him. "That was a hard year for both us and I wasn't a good parent to you; at a time when you needed me most. And now I know that I've failed to protect you from everything else." He feels his face squirm with the restraint of trying not to cry.

"Dad..." he sucks in a breath.

"We're going to get through Stiles. Demonic entity or idiotic kids, we're gonna get through this." 

His hands clench around the back of his father's shirt as he buries his face into his the older Stilinksi's chest, breathing desperately to not sob or panic. 

_He really hopes they do._

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! Wowewowewowowewow! Was that a ride or what?! *grabs a tissue and blows nose*
> 
> So I know this took me so long to get this out, which I apologize profusely, but I also am happy I waited because one of the great ideas I incorporated just hit me like this week!
> 
> I love the idea of exploring the concept of being "too young". Like many parents will tell their children, you're too young to know what love is. Or in this case, Derek and Jackson think Stiles is too young for them to mate with him. (only one reason they gave, and yet so many more to yet explore which we will!) Yet, he's not too young to have experienced sadness, loneliness, loss, bullying, abuse, depressing hurtful events that leave behind scars emotionally and physically. Isn't that just a crazy thought to consider? 
> 
> What can I say but good things/ideas to explore in stories come in good time.
> 
> Another thing, if you couldn't guess it, is that the bolded words are the demons' lies being whispered into Stiles' ears. Just wanted to makes sure everyone knew that.
> 
> Also fun fact about the ending is I was going to write a line that Stiles would say to Derek that would go like,
> 
> "You're a liar Derek. Can you not help yourself? Do you just want to lie and hurt someone like me just like that girl in your past did to you [blahblahblah]...Can't guess who I'm talking about Derek? I'll give you a hint," he stepped forward and seethed out at the Alpha, "she liked to play with fire."
> 
> And it was going to be a bit of a cruel jab at Derek how he lied and hurt someone like Kate Argent did in turn to Derek. Comparing the two to get what they both wanted. It was was a way for Stiles to try and hurt Derek like he got hurt, but then I decided against it, cause I didn't want to focus on Stiles showing really any cruelty to them, only baring his pain before them. I didn't want there to be a point where people would say, 'Derek and Jackson did something bad, but Stiles said something even worse so they all have to make up for it blah blah blah.' 
> 
> I didn't want the story to be Stiles having to make up for something said in the heat of the moment. Stiles hasn't done anything wrong, beside maybe some misunderstanding or not. This story is about Derek and Jackson being the ones to try to fix it before it ends up being too late *HINT BUM BUM BUM!*. (And yes Stiles will have to address the problem that he has where Jackson is handed everything in life, which is pretty well founded, but thats a tension to solve for later on.)
> 
> Anywho! I hope you liked the chapter, hope it satisfied a hunger that went unsatisfied for months and gave you lots to look forward too! Love you all and thanks for the support!


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